poem, for Stacey (sar), SOUTHERN COMFORT

Posted by kid_A on April 22, 2002, at 18:49:20

stacey,
i dont know what to say, i think about you every day of my life... i think about all the things that we could have done, all the promise that there was in you... i wish i was a better writer, that i could write something ultimately profound and apt, and i know that no one poem can do you justice, i just think of you over my shoulder reading this, and maybe that makes me laugh, or it makes my cry... but still, i want you know know that i'll never forget you, that i miss you so much i dont know what to do sometimes, and you will always be in my heart, for as long as i am here, as always and forever,
yours.
SOUTHERN COMFORT
for stacey anne rainey
"how can you be so many women
to so many people, oh you
strange girl?"
-sylvia plath

oh strange girl, oh starling,
oh petal, oh flower, "Oh",
emptying that wondrous air
into the hands of Thanatos
with a mouth full of sleep
and eyes skyward, eyes
roaming the surf, eyes
lulling for sunsets
oh tambourine girl, walking
and ticking, Ah princess
to be sure, and steady--
hands upon the hilt
"Oh", And do you
remember it-- how perfect,
we thought, how right--
the word covering you now
like a princess's dress--
that second skin
merlot girl, tumbling down
your hillside, guilders all
tizzy
but not even a drop was
spilled!
hospital scrubs and lonely
children, open books and
killing time
the whip noise that fell
from your mouth like a rose
taking a drag off of Arrogant
Bastard, becoming spring
the wind through your locks
like Pan's little fingers
and flame and ignorance,
loss and walking, through--
fire, flame, earth, and water
that old creep show
and janis, and joan, they,
and their willowy grap, not even
a finger was laid upon you!
lifeless and limp, held high
by strings, their story
was pantomimed, for a
sleepyeyed and moving slow,
farwest secret star, yet
now Two little satellites
swim in amoungst the heather,
singing with johnny d.
twins now! and how about
that! silent trees for the
poets, Ha!, the tourists,
the narcicists
singing the same, you two
are one in push me pull me
i suppose, the rain will always
fall, in God's Green country
while we, each of us, open
our books, a life in every one
books, quietly left open, "Oh",
that affirmation of sly death,
that tattered bone
that death we both wore, that
death that wrapped its chord
around you
Oh angel of the southern comfort
do you know death?
that shepherd of the goodnight,
that proud face, cold nose
and we, all of us, seek to
know it, and so, we too
die a little
and we, all of us, seek love,
and so we, all of us, try to
love a little
Oh wintering flower,
do you know love?
for surely, it's ripened fuit
only waited to be grasped
and just like, just like,
the death which owns you now
that errand boy i call
impossible truth

fetching his package
like a prize
and as dear to you now
as a freckle,
there is a voice that says
"Oh", my songbird, my Psyche,
my loveworn Lady Lazarus
Oh my calla lilly,
Oh Stacey, oh silly girl,
Oh where'd you learn to
do that?

~~
April 20th, 2002

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poem, for Stacey (sar), SOUTHERN COMFORT kid_A 4/22/02
Re: poem, for Stacey (sar), SOUTHERN COMFORT » kid_A Zo 4/26/02
Re: poem, for Stacey (sar), SOUTHERN COMFORT mist 4/26/02

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