Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Eating Sunbeams

Wheat-field with Crows
Vincent Van Gogh


I had every intention of writing a post about an encounter I had this weekend with a family at a lacrosse tournament. The usual stuff, story-making, the unraveling of story. Remembered trauma and the surprise of affirmation. I was thinking the tiles of showers, the place where the forehead rests, the groove. I was thinking of all the years.


But it's Pablo Neruda's birthday, and there's his love poetry.

Here's one:




I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

9 comments:

  1. He is the best, best, best at the words of love and loving.

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  2. Excellent poetry. I will now search for more of his work. Thank you for posting such a beautiful poem.

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  3. I have his book of love poems. They are thrilling. Thank you for this.

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  4. Yes. "I want to eat your skin like a whole almond". I felt that way about my babies.

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  5. Yes. "I want to eat your skin like a whole almond". I felt that way about my babies.

    ReplyDelete