prosetry

Stack It Up Like Cinnamon

You were pretty like a leopard or a fox and probably just as sharp though you walked with that dead-leg swish like one was longer than the other and I doubted your ability to chase even if you wanted to, keeping it sullen like your name had old-world ties to shoemakers and carts.

We are all just lovers, and all I wanted was to talk but knew better so instead I just watched as your strange limbs carried you down one side of that long, busy street on what must’ve been a weeknight—I’m never quite on the beat, standing still or leaping ahead.

The restaurant host with the dirty blonde hair almost to his shoulders put me up at a table for two and my bags kept slipping off mine, bumping chairs and tables and arms in the narrow space where I tried to belong but knew better.

Upstairs, he said, but you may have to move back down once it gets busy. That’s what I got for being alone and I wanted to blame you but knew better as the false candlelits flickered those faces, giving the impression of flames where there were only batteries.

Why didn’t I hear from you? Surely, you knew better.

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7 thoughts on “Stack It Up Like Cinnamon

  1. anie says:

    that is a delicate, sad story. Soberly, one could see insight as a reconciling, soothing atmosphere. Emotionally, however not, because we know that our assessments are always subjective and reflect our own attitude. Decisions are made, the doubt always remains as long as we stay in our own prison. Surely no one knows it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, it is delicate and sad, especially now that I reread it. I’m not always sure about these things when I first create them. I agree with you about the virtues and downfalls of insight; there is a constant tension there, and, hopefully, if we can achieve something like awareness, an appreciation for this tension that permits a certain liberation from self imprisonment. Thank you so much for commenting.

      Liked by 1 person

      • anie says:

        ohh, it is wonderfully poetic and I love it very much! It’s like a poetic report that was written to conclusively evaluate a fact. And that is exactly what I find so surprising, sad but also amazing. Because the report looks for pictures in a very fantastic, artistic way, although the facts are examined clearly and analytically. But how can I form a judgment, if only I see my point of view and this is also beset by emotions ….. fatal and therefore sad … if also beautiful in poetry!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Yes! A poetic report, looking for pictures to examine—I’ve never thought of it this way! You’ve let me see what I do—not just this particular poem—in a new and different light. Thank you… it makes me wish we could have a conversation instead of just exchanging comments…

        Liked by 1 person

      • anie says:

        ohh we can have a conversation by email, or whatever, if you want. I find it very exciting to try to understand what the poems are about, why they touch me (I had no access to poetry before … except that I memorized them quite quickly when I was child …;) … ) and what baffles me.

        It is usually very introverted, withdrawn people who write sad poetry. They observe well and analyze in the way it has taught them the experience. And then comes the artistic side, the soulful side and processes this into pictures that describe them in words. When the head and the belly are in disagreement, there is torment that is expressed through art. The thoughts drive me on to the question of whether this artist has to suffer to make his art well? Through art, his suffering has meaning, but he can not get rid of suffering through art. He only has a chance to get rid of it when he leaves his prison…this is what I think….

        Liked by 1 person

      • That sounds delightful. The ideas you’ve shared resonate with me very directly, especially the question of the necessity and meaning of suffering, and I’m always interested in discussing more. My email should be in my bio; if not, it’s on my personal page http://www.artandinsolence.com. No pressure at all, though. Comments are just fine too.

        Liked by 1 person

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