I don't think of myself as someone who likes poetry. I don't usually seek poems. I've been known to run from them on occasion. At a fast gallop.
I might have taken a book of poetry out of the library once or twice, Erica Jong comes to mind. But I don't think I've ever read more than a few lines before I put the book down and then forgot where I put it and then it was time to take it back to the library.
I do, however, love to listen to The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor. I catch it some mornings when I'm getting dressed for work. Often hoping the timing of the blow drying of my hair will not coincide with Garrison's reading of his selected poem of the day.
Below is one such poem I managed to catch.
This poem has stuck with me. Some mornings it is consoling. Some mornings it saves my marriage, maybe.
After a Noisy Night
The man I love enters the kitchen
with a groan, he just
woke up, his hair a Rorschach test.
A minty kiss, a hand
on my neck, coffee, two percent milk,
microwave. He collapses
on a chair, stunned with sleep,
yawns, groans again, complains
about his dry sinuses and crusted nose.
I want to tell him how
much he slept, how well,
the cacophony of his snoring
pumping in long wheezes
and throttles—the debacle
of rhythm—hours erratic
with staccato of pants and puffs,
crescendi of gulps, chokes,
pectoral sputters and spits.
But the microwave goes ding!
A short little ding! – sharp
as a guillotine—loud enough to stop
my words from killing the moment.
And during the few seconds
it takes the man I love
to open the microwave, stir,
sip and sit there staring
at his mug, I remember the vows
I made to my pillows, to fate
and God: I'll stop eating licorice,
become a blonde, a lumberjack,
a Catholic, anything,
but bring a man to me:
so I go to him: Sorry, honey,
sorry you had such a rough night,
hold his gray head against my heart
and kiss him, kiss him.
15 comments:
i needed that this morning.
and it brought a smile to my heart.
That's so sweet. And I absolutely LOVE that painting.
I absolutely love this piece. Garrison Keillor's voice feels like a warm blanket.
Wow. Just. Wow. Such a wonderful reminder....
Yep, that's a goodie. Love the painting too - excellent purples!
Oh thank you for that. I can see how it would save a marriage, mine among them.
Very good. Garrison could read the phone book and I'd think he was being wise and kind. I do have to say that my husband is very sweet in the morning. He doesn't get on my last nerve until after dinner. Got another poem?
I love poetry and this is a beauty. Have you ever read any Sharon Olds? She always blows me away. Love your new header!
I can think of a person or two who should read this poem.
I AM you, when it comes to poetry, right down to the fact that Keillor always reads something that makes me concede poetry says it better than anything else could. This is a perfect poem. It is my life, too.
Mrs G -- I have not read Sharon Olds. I am serious when I say I am an almost never read poetry type person. A poetic trogladyte. Ms. Olds has quite an impressive educational background, I just saw.
Your first paragraph made me laugh...out loud.
I'm a single gal, yet I really like the poem (and the painting.)
In my latest post, I mentioned you, your blog, and your lunch idea. See for yourself:
http://caffeinatedglobe.blogspot.com/2010/08/lunch-ideas-life-is-good.html
One of my great regrets in life is that I was absent from the talent line when artistry was being given out. What a work of art. I love the form and color of it all.
I love that! What a great poem. I could probably emulate that instead of putting my hand over his mouth and nose when he's snoring... (he eventually wakes enough to turn over...)
I'm apathetic where poetry (except haiku, obviously!) is concerned most of the time, but pieces like this are appealing.
p.s. the background behind the poem either didn't load properly for me (twice) or it's just really busy and makes it hard to read. I had to highlight the poem to read it.
Hope you're having a wonderful summer!
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