I wrote this for Read Write Poem Prompt #88: Fresh From the Wordle bank (which was an interesting birthday gift of sorts from RWP and the Universe, I think). I got a bit of inspiration this morning and worked some of the words into this piece. I think Kinnell has left his stamp on me and this poem is about — guess what — nightmares again. So for your enjoyment, fresh off the pen, is this yet-to-be-titled piece. Enjoy.
-Nicole
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The breeze blows through the
window, billows the curtains, flies those
gentle blue flags on worn steel rods, and then blows
down the coastline of your back. Somewhere,
a river comes undone
and hurls itself to Earth in tiny, shattered pieces
beyond our bedroom window. Dreams
have rolled me around on their rollercoaster backs
before hitching a ride homeward
and fading from my eyes into a
fogged lavender horizon. My jack-hammered back,
curved convex and crying ache,
is their testimony.
These dreams
have turned their teeth on me lately. Last night,
I was staring down the slick, yellow gut
of a giant wolf spider breathing
chitin jaws and rancid threats of hunger
into my face. And tonight, my skies
light up with nightmare yet again. Hitler
goes salacious, aiming his strange arrow of skin up at the
pack of Valkyries that Wagner sails over my head,
marching mad armies across my plains and
sending Sylvia Plath daddy trains to come and
collect my flesh suddenly studded with
gold six-pointed stars for the fire. Stravinsky has found the
joys of acid and peyote and sends
a battalion of sword-wielding violins insane
and hungry for my neck. I appeal
to the cosmos. Nietzsche
gives me a mirror and a sturdy pair of boots. Kierkegaard
hands me sword and shield. The Council of Poets
does not deliberate, does not ask me any
questions: I am simply handed
a pen. Meanwhile,
diodes spark and burst
into blazing electric blue-haloed flame,
burning bone and buzzing muscle. I come up
gasping for air from a warm, sticky ocean
and fling myself onto already damp
sheets. And I find
your fingers writing sonnets into
my shoulders, unwinding ropes that had
twisted themselves inside my skin, and
sending ice to quench the horsemen’s fire that had
scorched the nape of my neck. I am
safe again for another night.
Written 8/20/09
© 2009 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
Wonderfully surreal. You’ll find mine here.
Hello Nicole,
I love the last stanza and the knowledge that you are safe!
I really like the way you weave art and philosophy into nightmare.
“slick, yellow gut of a wolf spider breathing chitin jaws and rancid threats of hunger” -this line is a fire starter. very much enjoyed the vivid snapshots here coupled with the heavy emotion throughout. good to read your pen again. -lawrence
Wow. I’m going to have to come back and read this one a few more times. So much packed into it. It captures the rush of the nightmare imagery extremely well… and I loved these lines in the opening stanza:
Somewhere,
a river comes undone
and hurls itself to Earth in tiny, shattered pieces
So many good images here. I especially liked: “blows down the coastline of your back” and the detailed picture of the wolf spider.
The imagery in the first stanza is great, the wind and rain really come alive. Well done.
this is wonderfully freaky. all those people responsible for all the thoughts and music in our heads showing up to haunt our dreams. fantastic.
I wonder if this is what heaven is like…or maybe???
How intriguing that the Council of Poets is in your nightmares. I’m hoping that your ReadWritePoem friends maybe are who make you feel safe upon waking!
I love the image in the 1st stanza of the river coming undone and hurling toward earth. The whole piece is full of wonderful images to savor.