I’ve been kneading
two lines over and over
said to me by a lover
like how a pioneer might,
full of dreams
on the high plains of Pittsburgh
build,
out of dirt and straw,
a house.
This domicile
that should have been our home
realized it was alive.
At the same instant
that you departed like sand
through the willow wasp
of an hourglass.
Grain by grain
you dribbled out of me
painting movies
of some strangers life
our parents wanted us to lead
on a barrier
locked away
in someone else’s mind.
It unfolded
Beating vividly in my chest
throbbing like my thumb did
after I crushed it
with a hammer
when I tried to nail that portrait
of an existence
I never really wanted
onto walls of mud.
I rolled up
bloodied sleeves
gritted teeth
blackened by rot
and accepted the pain
clenched between
two intolerant fists.
My intellect rejected it
as I flexed the muscle of a brain
given to me by those
who hung pictures
of you in that skeleton
they called a heart.
This has been the most difficult 2-Lines poem to write thus far. Tmac, who is a slam poet from Pittsburgh, I salute you! She submitted on August 12, 2011: “roll up your tolerant sleeves And…..show your intellectual fists .....flex the muscles of your mind,” and “Give it all to those who have hung pictures of you on the walls of the hearts.....” I’ve also gave these two lines to two other friends to see what they could create out of them. One of my ponies has already come in and that piece will post at noon today. And the third one, if it manifests, will arrive tomorrow night.
In mulling these over, I wanted to hear the poem she extracted them out of, but I knew to do so would ruin all chances of me creating anything at all. Perhaps she’ll submit it to my new Live Literary Journal: Randomly Accessed Poetics, I’d love to publish it, sight unseen, there.
Smiles
Lovers it....
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