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The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 5/5/09 (warning: graphic language; NSFW)

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BlueIris Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 06:09 AM
Original message
The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 5/5/09 (warning: graphic language; NSFW)
"Wreckage"

They're searching the ocean for JFK Jr., and I'm sitting
on the crinkled paper of an examination table waiting

for a doctor to search my body for a knot I'm sure
I felt in my testicles last week. I leave my underwear on

while I wait because the place feels like a sterile
living room: the watercolor New England landscapes in silver

frames, juxtaposed with the orange biohazard disposal box
on the cream walls, make me feel awkward and dirty

at the same time, as though guests for a dinner party
could walk through the door, afraid to touch me.

They're still calling the mission a search and rescue,
meaning--even though it's been two days and the chances

a person could live in the Atlantic without food
or freshwater that long are slim--we need hope:

the nurse's smile is forced when she finds out
why I'm here (the pamphlet says nearly all

irregularities in the testicular region are cancer
).
I remember photos of JFK, a Hyannisport shot,

shirtless, wet, windblown. He's just jogged
down the beach after diving into steel blue waves,

is on his way back to the shore for a heroic catch
of a football. I jerked off to that catch as a teenager

for months, and today I can't believe someone that young
and handsome can die. I think about running

out of the office. What if I really am sick?
I could refuse treatment, never tell anyone, vanish

to a new city, wait. The Kennedys are in retreat
at their estate on the Cape, waiting for news

from the Coast Guard. I think about how the nothing
they've found means hope: JFK waiting

on a island, expecting to be rescued, but tomorrow,
when they change the mission to search and recover,

expecting only wreckage, nothing will mean despair.
The whole sleepless week I've wondered if a life

of shame could cause a lump to form, disease
a kind of strange mercy for a body wanting

to rid itself of the source, self-loathing
putting desire to death.

~Aaron Smith
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BlueIris Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 07:40 AM
Response to Original message
1. But, but--people are reading Retro's thread!! nt
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Tuesday Afternoon Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 07:55 AM
Response to Reply #1
2. I loveit ---
"...I think about how the nothing
they've found means hope:..."


very well done! The way he correlates his predicament with current events and how someone famous in our lifes can be just as close to us as someone with which we have been intimate.

thanks Blue:hug:

:donut: :hi:
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BlueIris Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 08:05 AM
Response to Reply #2
3. This is one of the best poems in the book.
Which is called "Blue on Blue Ground," and is super excellent.
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CaliforniaPeggy Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 10:48 AM
Response to Original message
4. My dear BlueIris...
Ah, so beautiful, and so damn sad all at once...

I really liked this one.

I always enjoy getting inside a guy's mind to see how things look from the male point of view.

Thank you!

:hug:
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BlueIris Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 11:04 AM
Response to Reply #4
5. Yeah, it's important to let the Y chromosome holders speak once in a while.
:-)
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BlueIris Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue May-05-09 09:12 PM
Response to Original message
6. One last kick, for the night crowd. nt
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