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Vermilion Splice

December 3, 2011

Nostalgia is inauthentic grief*

Hollow arms, slow with sleep,
circumnavigate
the trick-tease fret
of ebb-tide
dream desertion.

Straining to contain
your imprint
(warm arm weft)
taste skin salt
and press essential oils between
my open fingers –

sal volatile
against a half-lit day.

Autumn bonfire,
shredding smoke-sharp cloud
of pungent absence

I womb wish you

vermilion

climb back into your hammock
and rock

blind

suspended beige
between
glazed teacups
and the Today programme.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*from ‘Romancing the Shadow: A Guide to Soul Work for an Authentic Life’ by Connie Zweig and Steven Wolf

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Linking for Open Link Night and Victoria’s Poetics prompt at dVerse Poets – emotion.

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21 Comments
  1. This is great! ‘Autumn bonfire,/ shredding smoke-sharp cloud/of pungent absence’. Gosh, wish I’d written that.

  2. i absolutely adore vermillion honestly…the womb wish climb back in the hammock ,,,very nice…crisp imagery becky

  3. fabulous texture to your words becky.. i can feel them creeping under my skin like the oil, pressed between open fingers..only it goes much deeper than the fingers…wow

  4. Wow… thanks Claudia… happy to hear your reaction.. just what I’d hoped for.. 🙂

  5. hedgewitch permalink

    Very sensual, rolling images that infiltrate the thoughts, as Claudia said. Great opening quote, and nice mix of the passionate and the prosaic, esp in the ending.

    • Thanks so much for your comments…the quote had been swirling around in my head for a while until it bumped into the emotion that went with it…. Yes, the prosaic and the passionate.

  6. The killer epigram sets up a stern warning that this not nostalgia, that all of these images have sawteeth still in them. It starts disembodied –

    sal volatile
    against a half-lit day.

    – as a free-floating grief must be, maybe still stunned. Or like a ghost, the images press against the pane without any feeling of real impress. But then things get physical, pungent, sharp, lacuna filled with blood. Very good (soul) work. – Brendan

    • That is a brilliant commentary Brendan…were you in my head? ‘lacuna filled with blood’ … now there’s a poem….

      Much appreciate your insights…

  7. Now that is a cool title – was it an easy choice? hahahahahahaa – just goes to show how some hammock chill time can allow for a perfect pick 😉

    can you guess my fave line???????????

    outstanding…

    • Ha Arron…. perhaps I’ll just string you up in the hammock… 🙂 Yes..think this is the one… both you and Julie mentioned splice and for me the heart of this is vermilion…

      And yes..

  8. Nice textures and imagery, Becky. Just lovely !

  9. This is such a good example of how color can express feelings…one of my favorite “tools” both in writing and painting (which I don’t seem to have time for anymore). This is so well done and the painting is so striking.

    • Thank you for the great prompt and article, Victoria. It’s always a pleasure to reflect more on the craft of writing. I’m very happy to hear this one worked for you.

  10. Beautifully written, and may I say I admire how you match up words, the consonants of “volatile” to those of”half lit”, the “weft” to “fret” with images of loom lines and the lines of guitar and music.

  11. what a magical read.

    your words speak softly and with perfect rhymes.
    enjoyed your work.

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