Saturday, October 04, 2008

The Up-Arrow: A Saturday Poem


The Up-Arrow


It was the click of your heels on the
marble
foyer
floor
and the whole open-concept ocean breeze
wafting through that first
threw me off my mark and
then I pressed that button that lit up.

I spread wide the curtains to the night.
Open
the balcony
door
you said, and we watched a cruise-ship dock
while laughter floated up from
our very chairs below, still warm.

Turning, I realized one should be at least
alive
or
dead
because in the few seconds it took you to
throw your blouse on that chair, I knew my
ghost was not going to survive.

Later, in your arms, I turned your face to mine
and
just
then
felt for the first time in my life that from the clicking
to the pressing and the spreading and the
dying, that all of this –
All of it, was why I first breathed.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

2 comments:

bemidji minn said...

Isn't this poem more just a person's thoughts or what would be called prose? I wouldn't want to be mean but it seems a trifle amateur this one. Are there others?

cipriano said...

Dear Bemidji Minn:
Any attack on my poetry feels to me like an attack on my firstborn child.
However, I do not have a firstborn child, and according to you, I guess, neither do I have any poetry!
My God, I am more bereft than either of us know!
But let be.
I am probably speaking to outer space, so I will not write an essay.
What I mean is, you will not respond to my response.
You are probably a random drop-in / drop-out.
The one thing I would say though is that the most accurate thing you said involves the word “amateur”. I write my poetry on a definite “amateur” level, as in, I do not get paid for the writing, nor the presentation of it. One might think a reader [who is also reading on an amateur level, I would presume… hey, you’re not Harold Bloom, are you?] would be more generous with someone else putting their words on display.
But again, I am probably talking to Outer Space, right?
So.

Dear Outer Space… Minn:
Here are the two questions I would most like to ask you. The reason I would like to ask them is because they are the only questions I can also answer for you.
Do you yourself write poetry?
My answer on your behalf is “no”… because if you did, you would not have written what you did, to me.
Secondly, Do you yourself read poetry?
Again, the answer is no, and…. for the same reason as above.

Thank you, just the same, for dropping in to The Puddle.
May your ship have enough rocketfuel to get you home.

Hey, hey, hey! There’s a poem in there somewhere.
Oh, never mind.
False alarm.
It was just my “thoughts” acting up!