Write Me Up

Official writing with some random thoughts

Wednesday and poetry, a few minutes early. February 6, 2013

I probably won’t have much time to post a poem tomorrow, so I’m doing it tonight before I go to bed. It’s starting to look like Wednesdays in general will be a busy day, but the title Wednesday is for poets is so stuck in my brain now that I can’t change it.

In writing news, I actually have been doing pretty well. I finally figured out a working plot for my secondary storyline, and roughly outlined my first nine chapters. I am getting to a point where I feel like this isn’t an insurmountable, looming, herculean task, and is actually something I can accomplish. It is a good feeling. Now to keep working on it!

For the poem today, I am feeling quite mixed and melancholic. Today was a snow day, and since I now work at a school, that meant I had the day off. I watched Romeo + Juliet today and My Week with Marilyn, both quite excellent movies. However, they are both also very dramatic, and art-focused. That combined with the fact that I was writing a lot today puts me in a very contemplative and abstract mood. It makes me want to post a poem about poetry, or, if you like, an ekphrastic poem. (In case you hadn’t noticed, the later it is in the day, the larger my vocabulary becomes…)

This poem isn’t strictly ekphrastic, but it is a poem describing a love of a person by using the metaphor of loving books. It is absolutely lovely.

Spell

If, at your desk, you push aside your work,
take down a book, turn to this verse
and read that I kneel there, pressing
my ear where on your chest the muscles
arch as great books part, in seagull curves,
bridging the seasounds of your heart,

and that your hands run through my hair,
draw the wayward mass to strands
as flat as scarlet silk-thread bookmarks,
and stroke my cheeks as if smoothing
back the tissue leaves from chilly,
plated pages, and pull me near

to read my eyes alone, then you shall see,
silvered and monochrome, yourself,
sitting at your desk, taking down a book,
turning to this verse, and then, my love,
you shall not know which one of us is reading
now, which writing, and which written.

~Kate Clanchy

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