Thursday, February 24, 2011

Unsaid, While You Were Angrily Cleaning Up Dinner

It's been a while since anything poetic and not promotional has been posted.

So good morning:

"Unsaid, While You Were Angrily Cleaning Up Dinner"

I'm sorry I don't save words for you. I try to,
each morning, plug up and reserve something.
Mostly by day's end the best drain out.
The first of the day are barely worth speaking.
I croak them to baristas and doormen,
to women whose purses take up entire train seats;
sometimes, I practice on bosses.
Then "love" goes to my father, and "why" flies to my mother,
and expletives dart to tourists who halt mid-step
on the sidewalk. Loosed by noon,
phrases marked yours slide by. That joke.
That compliment. That piece of honesty.
They slip into the ears of others and I don't stop them.
Sometimes I pull a few to the side,
apples at the weigh station, perfect pearls for stringing,
but God, they age so quickly.
I wish they weren't so limp when handed over.
And of course the best ones--
the things I mean, things you need, the way I mean to say them--
struggle to survive in open air.
Written down on paper they seem trite. Which is best,
since I'd feather you in Post-It notes otherwise.
So read them in my face. Study the way I slip a finger in your palm
and trace avenues there.
Listen how I ask for nothing.
Let an egg, broken in a pan and poached in oil for you, speak.


  1. That's beautiful. I got the sense of your love in your actions and that is how it should be. We need to love by actions, not words. Thank you for your beautiful words that express your beautiful actions. :)

  2. What an interesting way to show how we start out tired in the morning, reach our peak about the afternoon, and then start getting tired by evening (among other things). I think my favorite line with regard to our words was, "They slip into the ears of others and I don't stop them." I think it'd be interesting to see how this poem would be different say for a person that was a night owl and hit their stride about midnight.

  3. I love this; it is absolutely beautiful. I really love the way you describe the words used throughout the day, also that you don't need them to show love anyway. This is a fabulous start to my day, thank you. =)

  4. This is a joy -- to read, but also to speak. The words flow beautifully, rythmically --
    I smile reading:
    "Then "love" goes to my father, and "why" flies to my mother,
    and expletives dart to tourists who halt mid-step
    on the sidewalk.
    Great stuff Kimberly

  5. This is beautiful. I was particularly struck by the image of being 'feathered by post-in notes'. Wonderful stuff.

  6. Love this. Excellent way of describing such a familiar occurrence. Whenever I write to the one I love, it always seems like the words don't even begin to describe a fraction of what I truly feel. Speaking almost always comes out ridiculous with me.

  7. This was so amazing it totally captures what it means to go thru a rough day and forget to pay attention when all u want to do is relax..u did it beautifully, great job.

  8. Really appreciate all the compliments from all you lovelies. This is one of those intensely personal slips of wording and it was a little scary to post. The response means a lot to me.

    @Michael--the weird part is I AM a night owl. But by the time the whole day plays out (work, work, errands, work, lunch, work, commute, write...) there are fewer and fewer words I care for leftover. Hyperactive midnight activity hasn't translated into hyperverbal midnight activity for me...not in a good way, anyway. I start using "shit" and "fuck" as punctuation instead of being articulate.

    @Dale You're right that it feels impossible to do a lover true justice in writing, in poems, in diaries, fuck, ANYwhere, depending on the day. But at least on paper the effort is visible. Like in school, when your math teacher insisted on you "showing your work" to solve an equation. The bits and pieces that are right DO have life on that sheet of paper, even if the end result falls short of doing a love justice. For me the real mess starts when I try and TALK my love...awkward and almost always artless. Silence is golden, paper is silver and speech is best reserved for better Lotharios, Lolitas and Dorothy Parkers than I.

  9. Wow. Every sentence just... they're meant to come to this. Beautiful words!

  10. What a gorgeous piece to share. I love reading what you write. You could spit dye on paper, and butterflies would rise from the wet. You have us all hypnotized, the same way cherry blossoms fill the air with an intoxicant. It represses the advance of crab grasses. I am not playing games with words. You give great letter. Thank you.

  11. wow deep a perfect fuck you love letter or sorts

  12. this is marvelous; so marvelous, in fact, that I got goosebumps.

  13. Troubled indeed! The poem really does let the reader into your troubled mind and feel the anger of your discontent lover whilst all you want is his warm touch - no words needed. Very good thanks for sharing...

  14. That was down right exquisite. The emotions were connectible (does that makes sense?) which I find is often not captured by poetry.

    Love it. The first poem I've read in a great while that spoke to me.

  15. So good!!!

    xoxoxo, cd

  16. I really liked this, thanks for some how-some way, speaking my mi-no my heart.

  17. Ah, Kimberly- thoroughly enjoyed this (and related). Don't you wish they could just read our minds? Then again, that might be dangerous.
    But the meaning here is very special, very tender: Sometimes it's the stuff not said that resonates the most.
    Just beautiful. ;)

  18. your rhythm and cadence and flow have me pea green with writers' envy---- thank you for this.

  19. Hi there

    I am back from holidays now and I logged onto your page today to catch up with all the happenings while I have been away. I love the poem, and agree with other comments that actions speak louder than words, but I feel that words are important too, they capture the memories in a different way:):)

  20. you catch a universal and express it in a novel way; the definition of good poetry.

  21. This is an INSANELY beautiful poem. It reminds me a bit of Sharon Olds.

  22. That is beautiful... Your poem reminds me of days when I wake up wanting to say heartfelt things to people. I prepare my speeches in my mind, but when the time comes, they never seem as good as they'd been planned.

    A great piece, congrats!

  23. Thank you for this. It gathered itself towards the end, unlike the end of the day it describes.

  24. I found your blog through 20sb and I really enjoyed this post! Your writing is wonderful...such a creative take! I feel the same way most days!

  25. It's a work in rhythmic beauty. Really nice.

  26. "Study the way I slip a finger in your palm
    and trace avenues there."

    so much beauty in that!

  27. Very nice work. Thanks for posting.

  28. wow this is so beautiful and so true to life many things that should be said never get said and when they do it often seems to late but why dwell on that when you can just be with the person in question??

  29. Wow this is lovely. I too found your blog by accident and was tickled by your first post. But this, this is lovely. It's really great when something like this restores my faith in the internet.