“He felt no pain, his death was instant”
words that lashed my brain
into a hurricane
an instant
how instant?
like coffee, a blink,
a microwave meal? The instant
it takes three women to click
a flame, to synchronize a suck
and exhale?
Dressed in black and huddled round
a plastic table, silver
trails of smoke swirled and slow danced
through caffeine steam.
I wash away the scene in
a pocket of my brain kept
for Oma, in her kitchen
tobacco flakes falling
into heavenly mud
Oma, slitting open a
melon with one hand, always
in her jungle of photographs
and souvenirs as bold and bright
as Rousseau’s paintings
Oma, whose rusty hips often
failed her, fell on that day and no
one caught her, our hands were too
full with sadness but
Oma helped me grow when I
was only four feet tall
You’re a tornado, she said, you grow from the inside
Mum has a different way of
smoking, with a droopy face
and cold-water eyes, one time
I hugged her too hard and she
screamed followed by
autonomous feet marching down
the driveway, me –
behind a bush in my camouflage
pajamas, an anxious action
man not wanting her to go
I fell asleep right there on
our street, snoozing to the
monotone lullaby of the M21
Next morning my sister tapped
me on the shoulder
“stop being a baby”
like Oma my sister could
spin as fast as she dropped
my eyes struck alarm when
blooming burnt holes puckered her
skin and I prayed myself into
a migraine
in her absence mum and I
filled our afternoons at the
cinema
accompanied by darkness
we could practice being
alone, together.
I’m older now, coming to
terms with gaps that can’t
be filled
the morning blinks into my
room through wet windows
and I promise I’m not crying
they’re just raindrops
scattered across the glass
staining my cheeks
with shadow tears
there’s a cigarette in my
hand, pointed like a pencil
I inhale
and exhale:
a smaller, ghostly version
of myself.
Comments
Florian | August 7, 2011 - 19:24
This is really excellent on so many levels.
RachelPatricia | August 7, 2011 - 19:27
'my eyes struck alarm when
blooming burnt holes puckered her
skin and I prayed myself into
a migraine'
- I could copy and paste from this all day, Maggy, but I'll stop at just this one :)
Truly beautiful stuff as always, I love it.
Rachel xx
maggyvaneijk | August 7, 2011 - 19:28
Thanks so much Rachel
Parson Thru | August 7, 2011 - 20:04
Blimey Maggy. I think I'll give up now and take up crochet. Such wonderful writing.
insertponceyfre... | August 7, 2011 - 20:35
Fantastic poem maggy
hudsonmoon | August 7, 2011 - 21:17
I know I'm also going to get some pleasure from your writing. No matter the subject.
Rich
luigi_pagano | August 8, 2011 - 09:12
Congratulations on yet another stylish composition, maggy.
Luigi x
PS Gave up smoking many years ago with no problems whatsoever; came to the end of a packet and said to myself: no more. That was it really.
EpheLuwe | August 8, 2011 - 09:20
I can really only echo what Florian has wrote in that this is excellent on so many levels. I can't think of anything that would have made this more complete for me.
Ephraim.
skinner_jennifer | August 8, 2011 - 09:34
Hi maggy,
could really hear this being read out loud, it's
just one of those you have to read out loud,
capturing everyones attention.
Another brilliant piece from you.
Congrats on well deserved cherries.
Jenny.
oldpesky | August 8, 2011 - 12:08
Where Elvis could sing the phonebook, you could write a poem about it. I'm sure you could pick any topic and leave us wanting more.
shoe | August 8, 2011 - 14:57
A fantastic mix of imagery and emotion, wonderful!
Highhat | August 8, 2011 - 18:50
Fresh- another blast
;)Pia
Silver Spun Sand | August 9, 2011 - 06:35
It has all been said, Maggy. Wonderful writing, packed full of emotion and poignancy.
Tina
Overthetop1 | August 10, 2011 - 16:02
I inhaled every wonderful word of this and don't want to exhale just yet. Genius. I am now off to have a fag & contemplate this poem. I shall be back for another fix I'm sure.
MistakenMagic | August 11, 2011 - 18:48
Out of this world, Maggy. I'm a sucker for poems about smoking, having a bit of a habit myself. Kind of comes with the poet territory doesn't it? That final stanza is just beautiful. Would you mind if I tweeted a link to this poem? :)
Magic xxx
maggyvaneijk | August 11, 2011 - 18:58
Thanks so much Magic and I'd be honoured to be featured on your amazeballs twitter profile!
MistakenMagic | August 11, 2011 - 19:12
I have done so! Sorry I couldn't mention you in it, wanted to get the whole image and that damned character count! lol
Magic xxx
maggyvaneijk | August 11, 2011 - 20:47
haha no worries, thanks!