Meeting the Bar: Passages

i’d love to offer you a chair
but there is nothing left, it’s
neither calm nor stormy, you

just wanna talk you say

So we sit on the floor,
minutes stretch endlessly,
our feet turn pale & cold–

in the air, the scent of floor-wax;
somehow seductive in its simpleness &

tightly lulled in thin-worn tissues of regret

we wind our toes around the lines
that drove us into darkness,

split sore space with tiny sparks &
ride our passion deep into the night–

that’s it

None of us survives, we just–
pretend to

.

Victoria Ceretto-Slotto has prepared a wonderful Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft article over at dVerse… and we’re getting all emotional…just.. how…? Gates will swing open at 3pm EST…looking forward to seeing you there..


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51 responses to “Meeting the Bar: Passages

  1. … my feet are pale and cold right now as well … just coming from work … it’s -24C in this neck of the woods … let’s cuddle, eh? 🙂 Love always, cat.

  2. Very lovely–I love the feet getting cold and the scent of floor wax and the talking and, of course, the end. I’m not sure you mean it this way–but none of us does get out of here alive. All the more reason to stop and smell the floor wax.

    K.

  3. i love how the scent of floor wax drifts into this poem claudia… so many oif our memories are tied to certain smells… for me, i can’t get enough of baby smell at the moment… the most amazing thing!

  4. Dead Love smells like floor wax, and regret is all worn out.
    The emotion this evokes within me is pity – a shame that it died.
    Que Lastima. Love Died. And the two pretenders are attending its wake.
    very subtle piece. the Fictive (Wallace Stevens) is alive here.
    All that’s left is the metaphor.
    nice job.

  5. first of all, i always love when you read your poetry (i often encourage others to do so)

    the scent of floor-wax;
    somehow seductive in its simpleness ->

    i so understand this because right now, i just got a new TV, and it has that kind of smell, and that’s how i feel when i walk in my house, and it’s not it’s regular smell

  6. those last lines are just awesome…a statement in comparison to the rest which sets it up nice and puts us right there on the floor…also really like split sore space…nice texture too with the use of smell…

  7. “tightly lulled in thin-worn tissues of regret”

    How I love this line!

    Beautifully delivered by your recording as always. Sometimes, its wise to leave the best until last, but today, I wanted to start at the beginning. What a way to start 🙂

  8. This is just incredibly good, Claudia. I love the floorwax, winding the toes…so many details. I pictured a break-up, an empty apartment that once housed love and passion, and that final, parting fling. And, I’m so glad you read it.

  9. Ah, Claudia, I can identify with none of us surviving. We just pretend to. I guess as long as we continue to pretend we DO survive. My mother always said, “Act as if….” And I think if we pretend enough, we might actually become. Again, an amazing and thought-provoking poem.

  10. Claudia, lots of terrific lines in here, split sore…, floor way scent- lots of great images conjured here. Great job, thanks

  11. The last lines just evoke a whole new feel to the piece, really liked them. The cat can pretend rather well too and as long as the floor is clean, that cat has no prob sitting there..haha

  12. You set the place firmly in my mind with its smells and the scene of a break up, the we’ll just talk temptation, passion re-igniting but knowing it’s pretending, not surviving. My favorite words- tightly lulled (oh, the sound of them)- speak to what the poem is all about.

  13. Complex emotions tied up in this lovely poem.

    This stanza gave me pause:

    “in the air, the scent of floor-wax;
    somehow seductive in its simpleness &…”

    ? simplicity ? and drop the semi-colon after wax? Just a suggestion – I hope you aren’t offended.

  14. The spell cast by the poem demanded that you read and listen to several times…the last lines were just brilliant….and again at total sensory experience…bravo!

  15. This left a melancholy feeling – familiar, somehow distant, and definitely very human.

    I caught up with some of the poems I missed. Didn’t comment, but I must repeat to you that I’m awed by what I read, as always. I am totally full of envy now, to see how you wrote a lovely poem at a train station. Blessings Claudia.

  16. For me, to have nothing of a person is better than an awkwardly painful ‘something’ filled with reminders of what once was and can never be again. Your words brought back to me just how awful such meetings can be.

  17. once again , grateful to be audience and watch the beautiful intimacy you offer with your expression…everyone has said everything in so many profoundly eloquent ways..i come and am rendered speechless..but cannot walk away without saying ..thank you,♡

  18. I read this earlier and thought I’d commented–obviously not–this one swept me away with the dust on the floor–nothing dead as dead love–or as an old country song says, ‘ there’s nothing cold as ashes/after the fire is gone.’ Consistently bare, almost droning feel to everything…lit by sharp flare-ups of words–great writing, as always, Claudia

  19. I love the way the floor wax scent intervenes in their stuck-ness, and meanwhile, seized by observing how you’re using line breaks and stanza breaks for suspense, to stretch the moment out or to swap the mood to a new one. Cool!