I spilled ink on the floor, damn it,
and left it there for a year.
I would look lovingly at it
every so often,
and it would look lovingly back;
perhaps we’d have tea.
But then one day,
one black, anxious day,
I thought I should clean it
away.
“It is better to be in my towels,”
I said. “Better to rumble through
my washing machine.
Better to get in between my fingers
and in my hair.”
And yes,
it did like being there.
Even I didn’t mind it for a while,
looking in the mirror and pretending
I was something great,
my ink stains living through
bath waters and sprinkler systems.
The turning point is always feeling trapped,
the day I realized I could not get them off,
could not clear my skin of their
ethereal concoctions,
could not wash their beleagured soot
out of my scalp,
without cutting off my own
head.
Your poetry is absolutely exquisite. Thank you for visiting my blog and allowing me the chance to read your work 🙂 It is beautiful.
thank you so much, I am so glad you enjoy it.
I am soooo curious to what your writing process looks like. I seriously love everything you write, and you inspire me to write more!
Good, I’m glad you are inspired. As for my writing process, it looks like the floor of my bedroom, personal demons, and a glass of merlot.
Just got to sit down and bleed onto paper. Hahah, we’ll you’re phenomenal.
I’m so glad you enjoy them…
You have skills. I like this… Reminds me of the entangling, romantic and often tortuous vocation that writing can be! Very passionate piece.
Great work x
I. Love. This. It reminds me of how I always start writing ‘a novel’ or ‘a book’ and then lose hope halfway. Then I’d come back months later, wonder why I ever stopped and pick it back up, only repeat the cycle again and again. Seriously, I love this.
I’m so glad you do, thank you! I do with life what you do with novels.
Fucking awesome — in the true dictionary definition sort of way. Truly solid image that flows end to end, and then sails beyond. Nice work.
Wow, thank you! Love this comment : )
You’re welcome. You have a very clear voice in your writing.
Ah–you can’t remove something that is so much a part of you. You’d have to bleach it from your DNA.
I’ve always believed it’s better to highlight what makes us stand out, and you, Ms. S., surely have ink in your blood, stain or no.
Yes. This ink IS my blood in the most literal sense. I need to understand how to live with it.
How to live with your own blood. I think you just “mused” me.
great fun poem – super excellent ending – I love these lines : “could not wash their beleagured soot
out of my scalp” 🙂
thank you so much
🙂
dark playfulness, I like that.
Your poetry is always interesting and evocative, with much talent and a dark playfulness.
Hahahahahaa
Cut the head off anyway!
Heads are over rated…So are tails/or is that tales?
Zoom….
: )
You make stains into majestic heirlooms. I’m frazzled by your potency, truly.
it might kill you.
It better.
I’d rather it kill me, today.
Was that Lady MacBeth — “out damn spot?” — do I have it right?
“Out Damn’d spot!” you do indeed.