I miss your skin

I miss your skin

the planes of shoulder blades
layers of muscle overlying them
the trapezius sweeping up to the base of the skull
and down to the tenth vertebrae
like a wing pointed inwards
on your back
and attached to bones

more and more in clinic
I pull out Netter’s beautiful drawings
and show people the bones
and that the bones are not just floating
in a sea of muscle and organs
every bone is attached to muscles
to tendons to ligaments
together in an elaborate
beautiful
working system
and if one muscle is torn too loose
or tightens to protect itself
and heals scarred calcified
too short
it pulls on the other muscles
and tendons and bones

I miss your skin
your muscle
your tendons
your ligaments
your bones

and all the rest

 

I took the photograph in the boatyard in 2016. Sometimes I dream I have feathers….

 

 

art and horses

I refuse to take the arrows
refuse to step on the hawser
say yes to Artemis
but by building her a statue
not taking on her role

I am a mere human
not a goddess

Hestia interests me
at first she does not appeal
home fires burn
my home is messy and creative
which is an excuse
to keep people out
only a few people
a select few
may enter

horse because hest
in Danish is horse
but this is Greek
but I play with words
women are the draft horses of the home

I have avoided that
by marrying a house husband
who agreed to stay home
until the kids were old enough
and then to work

he lied

I am not sorry

he’s working now

with my daughter launched
last child
what next?

I see singles
forming couples
marrying and divorcing

Beloved
I love you first
writing poetry
and medicine

and who is my muse?
I am female
and we have none

Gods and Goddesses
alike
I do not want to be held
to one
dedicated
to one

Beloved
you are all
you are one

you are my muse

My daughter looks so comfortable, doesn’t she? She looks as if she is standing quiet.

But I took that with a zoom lens. Really, she is here:

matinenda 2 049

say yes

yielding

Y for yielding in Blogging from A to Z.

Again, the definition changes, from Webster 1913 to the present.

Webster 1913: yielding

Inclined to give way, or comply; flexible; compliant; accommodating; as, a yielding temper.

Yielding and paying Law, the initial words of that clause in leases in which the rent to be paid by the lessee is mentioned and reserved. Burrill.

Syn. — Obsequious; attentive. — Yielding, Obsequious, Attentive. In many cases a man may be attentive or yielding in a high degree without any sacrifice of his dignity; but he who is obsequious seeks to gain favor by excessive and mean compliances for some selfish end.

— Yield”ing*ly, adv. — Yield”ing*ness, n.

Dictionary.com is different:

adjective

1. inclined to give in; submissive; compliant:
a timid, yielding man.

2. tending to give way, especially under pressure; flexible; supple; pliable:
a yielding mattress.

3. (of a crop, soil, etc.) producing a yield; productive.

Crop yields are important! But is compliance or giving in, a feeling of yielding, something I am comfortable with? What about yielding to love or to grief or to joy?

Today’s poem:

yield

I am yielding to my family
to no more contact

though I think they see me
as stubborn angry argumentative

they do not love me as I am
they want a different person

who acceeds and yields to their ideals
I am the villain who won’t yield

and yet I yield
I send them love

I send them joy and peace
one said if you make me choose

I won’t choose you
pressure, sorrow, grief

acceptance: I will miss them
I do not know if they

miss me

 

I took the photograph at the Women’s March in Port Townsend. When should we yield? When should we fight? When should we reach out for mutual understanding?

 

 

regarding rain, ocean and asphalt

the road is wet in the morning
northwest normal and I stop
loading the car because the rainbow
of gasoline is spread slick on the asphalt

I think this is gasoline not oil
from the size and color of the slick
I take a picture with my phone
the rainbow against the grey blue in the low light is beautiful

Is this from one car at the stop sign
or is it leaking from the street itself
as it appears and if so, what does that mean?
I comfort myself that it is not from my cars

What is happening to our environment?
where is this from? This is no doubt human
activity creating this slick. If I dropped a match
on my street would it burn in the rain?

I still want to lie on the street in the rain
sometimes tear my clothes and weep oceans howl
for love for loss for grief. If I did it here
I might be more flammable: ignition achieved

 

I already posted this photograph a week ago…. but then, a poem was published on everything2.com with this title. The title and the photograph kept rattling around in my head until I wrote a poem as well. There are four poems now with that title here: regarding rain, ocean and asphalt.

Center

The east and the west are yours, the north and the south are yours.

The center is mine.

I stand in the center, I sit in the center, I sleep in the center.

I move and it moves with me.

There are no doors to close.

I am here and the Beloved is here and the universe is all around me.

I walk in beauty and ugliness, joy and grief, riches and poverty.
I walk on concrete and in trees, indoors and out, up stairs and down.
I walk on land and in seas, below ground and above, in darkness and light.

Now I walk in beauty: beauty before me, beauty behind me, above me and below me.

The center holds: blessing to the Beloved.

Pandora’s Box

I read this: Was Pandora framed? today and thought, I know I have a Pandora poem….and here it is, from 2011. And another write up, Why the number line freaks me out, that too. When I think of infinity and Pandora’s Box…. it’s worrisome…

Pandora’s Box

Oh, you’d think
It would be empty by now

But I open the box again
I say what I want

And hear “No.”

I sit in want
Old wants
Buried wants
Pressure rising

I know by now
What is happening
I let it rise in me
I do not fight it
I clean the bathroom
Scrub tile and grout
Wants claw inside me
Burst like striking oil
A geyser from within
Black sticky want
Screaming up through the air
Falling everywhere
Filthy, flooding

It will take a while to clean up
this dark matter,
pollutant to poison
or fuel to sustain?

 

I took the photograph yesterday on North Beach. It looks like a popped child’s toy, pink. But it’s not…. it is all over the beach. A seaweed? Something hatching? Nature is a Pandora’s Box as well…. infinitely creative….