(Madeleines from the fabulous restaurant Aureole)
Day One: I ask God for hyperboles,
Mixed metaphors, logical adjuncts, plot lines and summaries;
He responds with a idea freeze, a tease, a set of unintelligible characters bleeding out onto the--
Page.
Day Two: We are wise to wonder at the progression of creativity, as we
Tumble back and forth, houseplants in tow,
Baggage in our ears much heavier than under the bus;
Still I lust
For the easy breezy,
The days when words pour forth like passing road signs,
Message out in the blink of an eye,
But I just feel nauseous.
Day Three: Big dirty city presents,
Pigeons screeching on the opposite ledge, a boiling room, few hours of rest, and a
New opportunity for navel gazing.
We watch our doubles stare back at us eye to eye, wall to wall, and get seasickness,
I crave the space to carve words out like stone pillars, like Adonis rising from blank marble--
But sleep deprivation castrates me,
I am half-whole and scrambling,
I worry on pink paper and process my thoughts,
Before slipping into dreamland.
Day Four: When it rains, it ___
Gives me the gift of brief connections,
Teaches me how to stay inside all day,
Astonishes me with the solidarity in windy nights,
And forces me to warm internally.
Day Five: Gratitude on the wings of opportunity;
A morning writer's break, some choking involved,
I string my 'thank you's along for all the small things - summer dresses and handwritten letters,
The independence I feel,
At changing my own skate wheels.
Day Six: I'm full of questions.
Are you a woman or a hockey puck?
Are you going to get her out of dreamland?
Are you going the right direction?
Are you going to try or fail? Try and fail?
I stretch my limbs for purpose and find:
Turkey bacon and three pancakes. A full meal.
Day Seven: Extra vigor with your dessert, ma'am?
Battlefront stance: mow down the competition.
Entry after entry falls to my spray.
I arm myself in gear made for fancier clientele, attack the biting cold with covered hands,
Sink my teeth into each waiting morsel,
Leave no survivors.
Hope you enjoyed this set of Week in Review poems - after novelling for days on end, I felt my prose needed a break!
Also, if you want to visit a more detailed website about the artist Marlene McCarty, here you go.
10,079 words.
