Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Fine As Fireflies

If I snake myself around your staff,
Doctor -
will you let me pet
my thought-fed dog?
I've seeds of spells beneath my skin;
it's harvest time again,
and my handfast hands are yours -
if you just unfasten this lock.

You can't tell me how to purge the evil,
Doctor -
that curls inside my gut;
a cautionary tale.
Give me a borrowed constellation,
a bit of strange Sapphic sedation,
and I'll be fine as fireflies.
Doctor -
say I'm well.

A rough draft (I've got some WICKED writer's block) for The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads.

12 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

Having lately placed my body in the care of a doctor this resonates all too clearly. What demi-gods they are. Or think they are.

Mennonite Girls said...

I'm sorry to hear you've been brain-blocked. I've been missing your writing, something awful. But boy did *this* deliver! I didn't, for a second, think it had anything to do with a medical problem, but now I realize that it just might (a little bit, at least).

I'm nuts over these:

"will you let me pet
my thought-fed dog?"

"I've seeds of spells beneath my skin"

"Give me a borrowed constellation,
a bit of strange"

Edward said...

I suggested Milton
she invested spilt on
laughing liltingly
said gaze the stained me
and would I mind going
to the bakery
for a pastry
captures
the poem
better after
you're gone
and returned, besides
I get the bed
to myself for a bit
after watching your ass
get into those
old holey jeans
before stumbling
sunglassed on out of here
into the I'm sure
it's afternoon
bright light
out of doors

Sherry Blue Sky said...

If this is what results from writer's block, then I want the kind you have. LOL. Fantastic writing. I love the "thought-fed dog" and the "fine as fireflies". Wow!

Sioux said...

What a shame. As fine as your lines are, I don't feel a bit sorry for you if you're occasionally blocked. When I have an impaction, the stuff that finally comes out is pure poop.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

If this is a rough draft, then forget you - I can't be of much help. However, there is a steady stream of Freudian sensuality snaking through this, so maybe just get laid and everything'll be fine. Just my .02. :) Your pal, mosk

Jim said...

You say I'm well and I'll be well.
I have constant ringing in both ears. The old German doctor ran a couple of tests and said he couldn't figure out why they rang. I 'smartly' told him it must be in my head. He got angry and left, slamming the door behind him.
When I went to another doctor when a softball hit my kne, he swore at me and told me I was too damned old to be playing ball. I was 35
..

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

I love the serpent writhing around the staff of the doctor's Caduceus, the seeds of spells beneath the skin, the thought-fed dog waiting for a pat.... And see, the magic has worked: you have a beautiful, passionate poem!

Steve King said...

It's interesting to link the medical profession with mystic and occult meaning via the snake wrapped staff...I've always thought there was a bit of witch-doctorishness about some of the diagnoses I've received. Looks like your working your way through the block pretty well.
Steve K.

Timoteo said...

What Buddah said :)

Fireblossom said...

A shaman or a Gypsy woman would probably be more help than the dear and glorious physician, sometimes. I love the descriptors in this.

Fireblossom said...

ps--perhaps you're a velocidescriptor.