–i still smell the lips of him who blew it//into being

clicK //cLick cliCk
he likes me
likes me not
cliCk
he–

“what ya doing?”

head bent in a 35 degree curve, light
flashing my face, then shade
fingers ‘round a bead of pearls,
triggering the switch
a silent silver moon // tightly screwed
against the tiles

“it works”
“of course it does”

i was a witness
first row, as the driller bit
sharp teeth&metal cuttings spread
transformed to thousand curls
like daisies on the floor

somewhere in a factory
a yellow planet’s born//
to the beat of a machine

&in the attic of his gramma’s house,
a little boy
hangs it with spider threads on a blue washing line
amidst a sea of fellow galaxies
his granddad
from the far end of a dream smiles bright//
&wrinkly

“tell me–” i say, ear pressed
to where light leaves a thin shadeline
underneath her breast

“i smell the boy” i say&

“will it hold?”

“i fixed it with a screw in the right corner”
“hmmm”

i pull the bead
clicKCliCk
&i’ve yet to grow to fully//
understand
the magic

.

Today at dVerse, Björn has us write about objects or situations as if we see them for the first time, trying to convey the feelings and wonder that go with them – one tool can be defamiliarization in the way of Viktor Schklovski or writing from so. else’s perspective, by using an unfamiliar poetic voice or by describing without naming.. pub doors open at 3pm EST

28 responses to “–i still smell the lips of him who blew it//into being

  1. You are getting quite skilled with these tools even if it is metaphorical. I expect soon you will set aside your chalk and water colours (temporarily) and take up sculpting in metal!

  2. When there is magic involved, sometimes it is better not to understand but just accept. Some parts of this poem are very touching, Claudia….like the granddad smiling from the far end of the dream.

  3. People are beginning to put up these decorations and although it is a bit early for my taste, I like the joy I see in the lights. Loved the images of the factory and of the little boy.

  4. You took to this prompt big time; a marvelous magical scattering of the defamiliar, I say. It takes a moment to get on board, but the descriptions are never too telling, & the other voices work fine, providing different rhythms & color; like your lines /ear pressed/to where light leaves a thin shadowline/underneath her breast/.

  5. What a great title.

    “Wow” to this: “triggering the switch
    a silent silver moon // tightly screwed
    against the tiles”

    Love this as well: “sharp teeth&metal cuttings spread
    transformed to thousand curls
    like daisies on the floor”

    And this: “somewhere in a factory
    a yellow planet’s born//
    to the beat of a machine”

    Oh, forget it. All of it. I love it all.😛

  6. Lovely stuff dear Claudia. Washing lines of negatives (in gramma’s house) – how the ‘truth’ of the image reveals itself.
    Anna :o]

  7. And truly the ones who create leave a part of their soul behind.. whether it is word.. or song.. or paint of offspring.. or light of night shade.. gone dark.. magically to appear again.. with a twist of left or right…..

    So yes.. i told my wife.. that table over there is part of someone’s soul and no.. not just the person who designed IT.. but the person who fastened the wooden leg bolt and was it me or you who did it..

    i do not know.. so our souls are all mixed together in all we do and see..:)

    in creativity….

  8. To me, the whole poem resides in these verses:
    then shade
    fingers ‘round a bead of pearls,
    triggering the switch
    a silent silver moon // tightly screwed
    against the tiles

    A new way of looking at Christmas decorations, for sure… at the love and care that goes into making them and hanging them, year after year. Gorgeous!

  9. as the driller bit
    sharp teeth&metal cuttings spread
    transformed to thousand curls

    Could picture the bit works in the workshop in creating this decoration. Must have been something great to win approvals from gramps and grannie. Wonderful write Claudia!

    Hank

  10. … getting to deal with the unknown every day … especially at work, which is at an acute psych unit … keeps one growing and wondering what is normal …

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