Friday, April 30, 2010

The last day of National Poetry Month...and there is just no way I can just...end this blog! I know I will continue to post poems because after all...this blog is titled: poetry is a bit of sanity.

One of the things that struck me...quite simple really but so profoundly, so tangible somehow...was talking to the island's women when I lived on Flores for a month. I was one of only two "visitors" on the island at the time...some of the natives were quiet and reserved and kept to themselves...but surprisingly, many many other residents were so kind and open with me. I made fast and lovely friends. I heard many stories from the women I met...stories of the island's past, stories about their own lives. Some women had very satisfying marriages, and others did not. I wanted to write a poem that SAID that...that somehow spoke of the sad, universal fact that some of us are truly fortunate to find lasting love, some are not.


THE INTRICACY OF ATTACHMENT
Reality is not always probable, or likely.
--Jorge Luis Borges


She believed
when she married him
she’d step
into a new life
zip up
like a second skin
she was religiously
patient for her poetic vision
to become reality
in the beginning
a perpetual waiting
the charged stillness before a thunderstorm
it sagged and billowed no matter
how much weight she lost
or gained
she bought
Electric Seashell lipstick
slippery see-through lingerie
perfume with promising titles:
Pleasures.
Passion.
Evening in Paris.
Years tumbled into each other
gathering speed
until it seems it all happened
in the space of a breath
the moving close
then the forever
backing away.

--Catherine Fraga