Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Watershed Moment
Twilight was a baby then, bald and blue
Not as deep as it is today, but still fanciful
Built from blossom pigments, purple and black and wild
Fifteen night gulls quickly hung stars in jest, nightly
It was spiritous then, unmanufactured, salt
You said a crevice was a crevice, a mountain tortured
I sighed and spoke of moon and a monsters heart
Baby doll I sang, baby doll
You never wept and I knew
Twilight would be mine alone
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A nice way to pronounce what is "mine"
ReplyDeleteQuite the turning point when you realize you are in love …
ReplyDeleteFork in a long road here, back when "twilight was a baby" and love was new--and there is the grand difference, the confrontation with the fact the the beloved will always be a stranger, estranged somewhat from whatever we love most. The last line is both a curse and a treasure.
ReplyDeleteWish that 4th line was mine.
ReplyDeleteah, a crevice is just a crevice. but it's a crevice!
ReplyDeleteSo much love and solitude in this piece. And of wanting to be accepted for who we are, monsters inside notwithstanding. I am a fan!
ReplyDeleteAwesome write! Many moons ago someone called me 'Baby Doll' .. loved it then, love it today.
ReplyDeleteyeah, that last couplet. gimme a shot? make it a double ~
ReplyDeleteLove what you've done with the prompt!
ReplyDeletea heart poem, all the way to the watershed moment...ships passing close in the night
ReplyDeleteThe turn of the twilight in the end is strikingly beautiful Corey ~
ReplyDeleteA beautiful sad poem--I also really loved the piece your posted on With Real Toads - thanks, Corey. k.
ReplyDeleteO.those days! I keep a can of images too, but they have Greek deity frolicking in them. They too leave flat those I bring there... but twilights alone are just fine. The whole rest of day and night are still open.
ReplyDelete