Monday, February 19, 2007

They never fit. ~Anna Hood~

Hip bones clanged
too many teeth
his tongue too sharp
hers could cut steel.
And possibly worst of all
for him at least
she had breasts so small
as to be nonexistent
(and him a tit man)
but still he’d said
he’d like to get closer.
‘Move in with me,’ he said.
‘We’ll be a pair,’ he said.
‘You and me. Babe’
as if he was Sonny for Christ sake.

She a hedgehog
prickly old maid
hard as nail polish
slick with hair spray
tailored suits and a bank account
ignored her more and more
ramparting misgivings
(what if this was it?)
agreed. Settled for second best
maybe third.
She didn’t like
his aftershave.
Sometimes when dining
out he used the wrong fork (!)
and how could she bear it
a snowstorm of dandruff
on navy or black.

Even in the beginning
her sleep patterns
were disturbed.
She was hot
in the night dreamed
scarlet mounties
musical rides, black
horses in time.
No pyrotechnics from him
only those overhead wires
astride his house
their heavy black strings
their razory thrumming
strings, vibrated her nightly
and not in any good way.

She’d never cooked
grilled cheese her mainstay.
The first wife had
and well it seemed
delicious gourmet treats
thoughts of the sauces
made his mouth water
or so he said
made his mouth flap
open criticize her sandwiches
perfectly golden
the cheese melted
cut corner to corner
sweet pickles artistic
on the plate.

Weekends a war zone
the visiting daughter
named for the doll
but neither thin
nor pretty
hostile as a shrew
and equipped
with his paternal tongue
sharp and so viper quick
that a word, even kind
could throw her into a fury
of rage or indignation.
Wouldn’t eat grilled cheese
‘hives,’ she said
‘lactose intolerant,’ she said.
Stepmommy said, ‘Bullshit.’

Thoughts of her old solitary life
became attractive again.
Her own bed
mounted scarlet men
atop black horses
(or her)
weekends without Barbie
no razory thrumming wires
vibrating her (she had a vibrator
thank you very much)
We’ll always stay friends,’ he said
She nodded but thought
a cat might be nice.



Blogger Roberta said...

This one made me smile.

You never knew this, but I almost didn't marry My Kramer. I was living alone in a lux apartment and working...just fine and dandy on my own, when he popped the question.

I'm glad I did, but living alone was such a treasure!

3:47 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

But he put up with her shortcomings despite him being a tits man. Who knows where desire may have waylaid him if he had had the chance or chosen to take one. :-)
Pretty cool of him, I think.
Lovely narrative poem as always, Anna. Thought-provoking, fiesty and such.

5:28 PM  
Blogger Dafath said...

"a cat might be nice."

is what the Beluga says,
wonder if i should worry!


3:36 AM  
Blogger Bernita said...

"hard as nail polish"
Your usual evocative images!

6:51 AM  
Blogger Atyllah said...

Sensible woman! Never settle for second best, certainly not third best. Never stay in a place where you're happy. Not sure about the cat though - I'd opt for a dog :-)

8:08 AM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

Too cute. Needed that smile. Loved the images evoked, and thought, "Yikes! What a marriage!"

10:29 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Yep Roberta this was a fun piece to write. Thank you. I too sometimes long for days to be on my own. I'd be a different gal that's for sure. prolly worse but who knows

Susan yes, he did sacrifice,
him being a man taken with bosoms.
hee hee, thanks Suse for making me laugh.

Bear, the Beluga is one wise woman. I'd worry too if I was you.
thanks for stopping by.

Bernita, I don't know about evocative but hard as nail polish rocks doesn't it! thanks for the read and comment

Atyllah, chickens should be wary of both felines and canines. And yep who'd want to settle for 2nd
or yikes! 3rd. Too many do I think.
Nice to have little hen tracks all over the place!

10:35 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Hiya Saaleya. It was a fun piece to write. Sometimes - probably most of the time - I am my best audience. Glad it made you smile!

10:37 AM  
Blogger Atyllah said...

Ah but Anna, when you're a five foot something chicken then canines and felines really aren't too much of a bother, besides my beak gives a bad bite!

10:49 AM  
Blogger anna said...

WoW! You're one big mother chicken
ain'tcha?? (g)

1:14 PM  
Blogger jason evans said...

You sometimes walk a delicious line between poetry and prose. Where I might pour poetry into my prose, you pour prose into your poetry. The effect is quite extraordinary.

1:12 PM  
Blogger anna said...

Hi Jason, I have always thought that a fault with my poetry - too prose like- maybe after your wonderful comment I shall think differently. as always thanks so much for stopping by.

1:02 PM  

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