I bought this book in October of 2003. I kept the sales receipt as a bookmark and reviewed it at Amazon, that's how I 'remember'. Every single poem exudes life, love, loss, romance, laughter. I was perusing my shelves of poetry this morning and realized I had overlooked this thin little book many times. I had the 3 poems below marked among my many favorites. It's a fabulous book of poetry, a keeper.
It's an overcast, humid day here in the swamps with the promise/tease of a storm. The heat has been oppressive lately, like wearing a wool shawl on my naked skin when I walk out the door. The hot breezes suck my breath away and push me back into my air-conditioned cave as soon as I've watered my drooping plants and given the stray cats fresh, cool water. The trees and plants radiate a high summer, neon green luminescence. Right now, everything is as still as death---an unearthly calm before the storm. Not even a dragonfly is stirring. I'm content to watch through the window as I sit in my cozy reading chair.
Wishing you all a cool, rainy weekend. Blessings!! ~Marion
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The Clean House
By Sara King
Fur balls like tumbleweeds
around the stove
where the cats sleep like frying pans
and there's a sauce stain
the shape of Africa.
He said he didn't love me,
never had,
and it wasn't because
his still loved his wife,
who now was a lesbian,
but because he couldn't live
like I do,
with the pets and the mess.
It didn't matter
that I was the best lover
he ever had
(and he's had 30),
or that I baked him a chocolate cheesecake
when he cried
that his wife was away with her woman
on his birthday.
He said I was too emotional,
but he fell to his knees at the beach
when I said,
I knew he wished
she was there instead of me.
He doesn't want the kids to know.
They know,
but they're not saying,
because they're hearing lies,
but at least their house is clean.
From: "I Stole a Rock"
===================
Finding Your Wife Was a Lesbian
By Sara King
You counted your years of abstinence
like candles on your cake,
while your wife was away in vineyards,
drinking wines, drinking juices
with the woman that she loves.
How many years with backs turned
like strangers in the bed?
You hands roaming hungry
her thighs while she feigned sleep.
You cook the dinner, wash the clothes,
put the children to bed.
You tell them Mom is out tonight,
dancing with a friend.
And oh, what a tango!
It's been so long since you have tangled.
But you haven't got the right shoes.
You haven't got a rose
between forgotten lips.
From: "I Stole A Rock"
=====================
Books
By Sara King
Don't say you'd mourn my passing.
You a writer, and a liar.
Writers are the worst of liars---
their audience has no face,
so they don't have to smile,
don't have to weep,
don't even pretend to love.
I know you will forget me
while I sleep with the worms.
You have forgotten me already
and I am breathing still,
here in the wet leaves and wind,
you, hiding somewhere in the city,
behind Dostoyevsky and cognac.
If only I were a book,
then maybe you would read my body---
run your eyes right to left
over my flesh,
bury your face
in the pages of my breasts.
But I am only a bookmark---
a place to rest
when you are reluctantly tangled,
you,
a voracious reader,
me,
a vicarious lover.
From: "I Stole A Rock"
====================
8 comments:
Such a distinct voice, Marion. A real woman. This one has hips, I think.
Enjoy your ac. I could never survive...
xo
erin
Love that last poem, "If only I were a book..."
So much in that stanza!
It sprinkled here yesterday, but I'm hoping for a deluge, flash flood even, to wash away and bring in the new.
Happy weekend.
Erin, yes, definitely childbearing hips that ain't ashamed of taking up space. Love & Blessings, my poet-friend. xo
Terresa, I'd love to be a book. I often tell my kids to take a road trip when I die and sprinkle my ashes in libraries and independent bookstores around the USA. So if one day you pick up a book of poetry and something dusty falls out....it just might be me. LOL! I hope you get your rain. It was a big tease here!! Love & Blessings!!
Yes, here is a woman who has lived. And loved. And dared to tell about it. I think I like the last poem best, too, but can certainly relate to the tumbleweed hairballs & stain the shape of Africa. I will look for her work; thanks for sharing!
I find these poems sad (as I believe they are intended), especially so the last one.
absolutely fantastic work! these poems, particularly the last one! a must have book i think and thanks so very much for sharing - fabulous! and girl, it's hot here too - several days at 105-108F before the heat index - not complaining though cause i'm a summer girl - long as the sun's out i'm good to go! but i do love my a/c too - now, for a good delicious little storm to sit and read with! ;)
First, a comment on your poetry:
"like wearing a wool shawl on my naked skin when I walk out the door." - Yes. Absolutely. I know you are an amazing writer and poet when the things you write I find myself nodding along to, thinking I was the only one who thought them. You have such a gift, Marion.
Now, onto Sara King - I've never read her before but these three poems (I'm guessing all about the same liar/writer) are incredible. Particularly the line of "because they're hearing lies but at least their house is clean." Damn. Such a brutal way to sum up what kids need vs adults and yet so incredibly true.
Beautiful poems, all of them.
Glad you "rediscovered" this poet so you could share her with us!
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