It's a dark night,
a slight moon.
The scar remains,
pale silent stitches
from wrist past elbow.
She held herself
together. She healed.
They used a saw
to remove the cast.
It screamed.
She wakes in the breeze
of the ceiling fan,
sinks into deep
mattresses; the sweetness
of strawberries; tart lemon cake;
the full scent of grass, just mowed,
lying down on its own fresh self;
the soft underwater feel of a tree-
shaded room. Even the taste
of mountain fires,
smoke in her mouth.
Even that pleases her.
16 July: This poem has been significantly revised, with suggestions and guidance from Cindy and the PoetryEtc poets. It has reminded me what I mean to be doing here. I will write more about this later.
For those interested in the revision process, I'll post a few versions below the cut.
Several Versions Later
They used a saw to remove
the cast. It screamed. The scarremains, pale silent stitches
from wrist past elbow.She held herself
together. She healed, his absencea pallid emptiness.
It's a dark night, a slight moon.She wakes in the breeze
of the ceiling fan.She sinks into deep
mattresses; the sweetnessof strawberries on tart lemon cake;
the full scent of grass, just mowed,lying down on its own fresh self;
the soft underwater feel of a tree-shaded room. Even the smoke
from mountain fires,the taste of ashes in her mouth.
Even that pleases her, reminds herthat she lives.
Original VersionQuite young, I broke my arm.
Old now, still the scar remains,
a pale and silent remnant, like
small white stitches from wrist
past elbow. They used a saw
to remove the cast.It screamed. Your leaving
was like an invisible limb ripped
from my body, torn flesh, no neat
scalpel wound. I held myself
together. I healed. All that's left
is the suggestion of a scar, a pallidemptiness. I wake in the night
to write this, in the breeze
of the ceiling fan. It's a dark night,
a slight moon. Chill approaches
the record low for this hot month
by human reckoning. I havesoftened, comfort is my pleasure
now, passion a fading mark
in memory, sensuality its remnant.
Deep mattresses; the sweetness
of strawberries on tart lemon cake;
the full scent of grass, just mowed,lying down on its own fresh self;
the soft underwater feel of a tree-
shaded room. Even the smoke from
mountain fires, the taste of ashes
in my mouth. Even that pleases me,
reminds me that I live.
[This poem is for Timothy Kittleson, on his birthday. It's not about Tim, but it's for him.]
You did a beautiful job.
Posted by: Cathy | 12 July 2008 at 05:10 PM
It's so interesting to see the three different versions, they're very different poems. I really like the final version, there's something about the first stanza about the moon that really adds to the overall effect
Posted by: Crafty Green Poet | 17 July 2008 at 12:50 AM
Love "soft underwater feel of a tree--//shaded room" and the use of the phrase "holding (your)self together."
Thanks for having the courage to murder your darling right in front of us. It's nice to see the process.
Posted by: karen crone | 17 July 2008 at 01:13 AM
Hi, like the 'final version' loads, it's good to see the process. I did like the line 'taste of ashes' though..
Posted by: Sweet Talking Guy.. | 17 July 2008 at 02:27 AM
Honestly I like both the top version, as well as, the original version. I appreciate both. This is such a nice poem, I liked it a great deal.
Posted by: Lisa | 17 July 2008 at 07:43 AM
Thanks so much for sharing not just the poem but its various incarnations... each version gets more tightly packed with meaning as you whittle away the extra words. It's interesting that there's no suggestion of "his absence" in the final version - was this deliberate? Excellent work, anyway!
Posted by: Lirone | 17 July 2008 at 08:39 AM
Thanks for posting the original and the changes. The final poem is my favorite but it's interesting to follow the revisions!
Posted by: Tumblewords | 17 July 2008 at 01:45 PM
I like all three versions. I found it interesting that the first version , you spoke in first person but in the second and the final (?) version, you spoke in third person. Great work!
-Bev
Posted by: Bev | 17 July 2008 at 10:35 PM
thank you for sharing the process.. thought it was great to see the unfolding of yr poem and thoughts.. dropping words, focusing on the imagine, the simplicity of words..enough to leave a print.. i liked all three really...
Posted by: one more believer | 18 July 2008 at 09:56 AM