In the evening,
the sinister curl of his lips
forms the first of many
smarmy solicitations
to lie with him.
Holding me flush against the sheets,
he presses.
He authors consternated, greedy love-making,
giving up the plot right away,
submitting endless revisions,
bookmarking me for tomorrow.
Gathering courage, I grab his face,
hold it close to mine.
I scream - I am alive,
not carrion -
I suggest there are others
he could plunder.
With hostile indifference
he reveals his promiscuous need
to drive minions
through his slavish sluices.
He taunts me, tells me
wallowing is all I will ever know.
At dawn,
sated by his manic insistence and with
plagiarized grace,
he grants a partial spasmodic respite,
in which I dream intensely
of wakefulness.
© 2010 by Kathryn Feigal. All rights reserved.
© 2010 by Kathryn Feigal. All rights reserved.
Beautifully done, Kass! Thank you. I am going to print this on some handmade paper and frame it, I believe. And I have news for you. That dirty rotten scoundrel is two-timing you, as you requested. For when he is not plaguing you, he visits my little bed in Las Vegas.
ReplyDeleteA broken tree falls, flower awaiting sunlight, the promise of rain.
ReplyDeleteThat poem made me feel exhausted. I like it. Slavish sluices, indeed :)
ReplyDeleteLIMES - be sure to print out the corrected version. At first I said unless instead of endless (revisions).
ReplyDeleteDo you make your hand-made paper in the middle of the night?
It's tough sharing the same man, huh?
NOT YOSA BUSON - beautiful Haiku!
JULIE - Yeah, I'm already writing a salad recipe called Slavish Sluices.
Dear Kass,
ReplyDeleteI couldn't believe the timing of your 'masterpiece.' I live in a row of 11 townhomes and have great neighbors. However the guy (in his 60's) next to me enjoys playing music, relaxing in his hot tub and carousing with a buddy or two into the wee hours. The loud shouting, etc began around 10:pm and stopped by 11:00 so I believed all was well. This morning at exactly 3:51am I awakened to the Beach Boys singing 'California Girls' .... the music magically ceased about 20 minutes later, but the damage was done. My next conversation? With our homeowner association president .... I am a tad terrified to confront someone who would have the audacity to do this! This is an educated and 'seemingly' together man.
So .... I relate to your words in a very real way today.
Oh, my goodness, Kass ... kick the bum out!
ReplyDeleteHELEN - My weary heart aches for you in this situation. Interrupted sleep is terrible. At least you have a literal culprit to deal with.
ReplyDeleteS. ETOLE - If only it were that easy.
Oh, the evil beast insomnia, apparently he's omnipotent.
ReplyDeleteI felt your struggle against the demon insomnia. That was intense and very well written.
ReplyDeleteERYL - Good word for him.
ReplyDeleteP.J. - Intense and a little over-the-top, but insomnia will do that to you.
I have twelve-packs of insomnia bane in my closet, highly recommended. Nothing like series of 12 push-ups to knock a person out. Or maybe there is? Hard labor, sit-ups, squats, laps, weights, etc...
ReplyDeleteMens sana in corpore sano... And by extension a sleepy mind in a sleepy body.
And it has nice side effects too, such as being buff enough to shove insomnia out the door...
The imagery here is EXCELLENT!
ReplyDeleteALESA - Believe me, I have done physical exercise so strenuous you'd think I should faint, but it only makes my mind hyper.
ReplyDeletePOETIC - The imagery comes from a sick and tired mind.
Kass,
ReplyDeleteYou've nailed it, suffering from fatigue induced insomnia, he has been a nemesis of mine since I started long haul flying about six years ago.
Thanks for the inspiration of another blog.
AJ
I know your last two lines state the obvious – I can’t ever remember dreaming of being asleep – but it struck me for some reason and it’s a fact isn’t it that some part of us is always awake? I’ve kept a sleep diary for about seven months now. No pattern has emerged other than the fact that it is rare for me to have a night without my sleep being interrupted. And on those nights when I do get a good eight hours I generally pay for it the next night, like last night when I couldn’t sleep and ended staying up till three in the morning before I felt tired enough to try again. Great image by the way.
ReplyDeleteI know of your pain, Kass! I have two poems on insomnia, both started in situ. It's a burden that you carry through the day and into the following night. I wish you deep, dark and dreamless slumber from hereon.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely beautiful, Kass.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for visiting my necessary room. I'm a bit behind on blog visits so I apologise for taking so long to stop by here.
Hope you are having a wonderful day.
one love.
Yawnnnnnnn I read this during a bout of thunderstorm induced insomnia and didn't want to type and further wake myself up. Instead, I invited this into my bed where I tossed & turned 2 more hours.
ReplyDeleteVivid! That guy sure gets around, huh?
AJ - I'm sorry to hear you suffer the constant awareness of mind syndrome. It helps to talk about it.
ReplyDeleteJIM - Stating the obvious is my specialty. The wakefulness that I dream of is that I'm lying in my bed trying to sleep. I have a little jolt towards morning and realize or guess that I've been sleeping. I've been like this for 15 years. A good night's sleep is 4 hours at the most.
DICK - I'll have to go back to your blog and look for those poems. I seem to remember one of them. Thank you for the wish.
SE'LAH - Glad to see you here.
KIM - Sorry to hear my thoughts and a thunderstorm affected your sleep.
3:46 a.m., awake: nothing metaphorical,all night classical music station, auto shut off in an hour ... insomnia happens. I function okay without that hour or two of sleep. Insomnia is like anger, the more you think about it the more it owns you.
ReplyDeleteJUNE - It's weird, but the night after I wrote this poem I slept like the dead.
ReplyDelete