Rivers of blood
streaming From my wrists
as I spin in the living room
A spurting dervish
Writes lines on the walls
That I won’t have to clean up
Will they hear me then?
But I can’t push the knife
Though I dream of the pain
Flowing sweetly from my arms
No god will rescue me
No god fell in love with me
No Aphrodite in the flesh
Carrying the anima of the world
Though the weight of my husbands’
Pushed me onto my knees
Doing the feeling and thinking for both of us
Though not nearly enough
Yet the Goddess of Love
Tortured me anyway
But the Ants did not sort my beans and lentils
But the Reed did not clue me on the Golden Fleece
But the Eagle did not bring me the river water
I found the casket of sleep
Deep within my own darkness
I drank absinthe with Ereskigal
I played pinochle with Persephone
Ten years in tears and slumber
A Sleeping Ugly
Awaiting some prince
Of the internet or the personals
Who never came—
Or who came and went
Don’t talk to me of love
Talk to me of strength
Of leaping from the tower
Expecting to flyOf going into the world
Without Pan’s whispers
Every day, every day, every bloody day
I have no sympathy for you Psyche
Your curiosity is weak
Your spirit as soft as your body
I hope your ambrosia turns to spit
Chokes you where you stand
That you die and turn to dust
Thus Eros is pierced
With his own blunt arrow
To lose his Soul
And the Gods are turned to clay
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Comments: 40
quite a class you are taking !
a sleeping ugly opposite of sleeping beauty
I love it.
You kicked their collective god-like butts.
and turned them to clay. I love it.
Charlotte, If Dubya was a god (roman or greek) who would he be?
Wilka
Thanks for sharing
I thought you should have started lines 21-23 with And, not But.
You're a master of pictures AND words !!!!
(it's always more fun that way!)
This is a very dark and sad poem, but the flow is really beautiful and the transitions from thought/events to the next thought is smooth and fits like a glove.
As Jules B noted, this poem was written for a class on the meaning of the myth of Psyche and Eros/Cupid. I had a very hard time with the material, did not want to read it, adn finally wrote the poem as a way of expressing my rage at the impotent and cotton candy image the Greeks/Romans had of the feminine. It is an UR-fairy tale, with many motifs that we find in The Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault.
The initial image is one of a fantasy of suicide from my days as a young mother, but William's exposition is spot on.
Kathy, If Dubya was in a myth, he would be the Golden Ass of Ascepulius, which is the name of the book where Eros and Psyche is told from Roman literature. If it were only so, for the ass learned his lesson.
William, you could be right about And/But--I relied on the repetition to get the And across. Maybe I should have left both of them out and started with No. (lines 20-22).
PAY IT FORWARD
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This is a poem of rage and disgust. Where are the stories of strong women who prevail? On Gather of course!
Z'
Thanks, Zara. I used to have that suidice fantasy, and finally figured out that I didn't want to die, only to get out of the feelings I had sunk into. But it's all over now. a very serious case of postpartum depression.