July 16, 2014 by rebelwithalabelmaker

Gary: I think if you want to put it on the blog, you should put it on the blog.

Me: It is inappropriate.

Gary: (gives me a look that either means “how is it inappropriate?” or “when has that ever stopped you before?”)

Me: It talks about having a crush on someone who is not you.

Gary: That happens to everyone.

Me: Sure, but everyone isn’t married to you.

Gary: You know what I mean. Wrestling with that stuff is part of being human. I think it’s a really honest poem about something people don’t talk about so much. Not the married ones. And not in that “learning from it” kind of way.

Me: You don’t think that it would upset people?

Gary: I think the people who read your blog aren’t easily affronted by honesty.

butterfly chalice


loving you is my drug
maybe not love

and maybe not so

but there is no question about the
tickling joy-ish itch
that fireworks through my veins

no question that each detail of you in my memory
is awake as dew
and just as gentle
and inescapable

your dandelion grin
that springs up
so inescapably often
in unpredictable places
seems to extend
past your eyes and face
into your shoulders and hair
and all through your body
and into mine

the way your body carries music with it
and when the piano drifts away from your hands
they do not stop playing

immersed in conversation
you lean in, unaware
of your unattended fingers
dancing patterns on the glass
you hold in your hands

none of this will be contained.
its giddiness champagnes into
other parts of life
and everything glimmers

thinking of your hand on my arm
makes store-bought tomatoes
taste like they are from the garden

lust is
too sharp a word for
this aliveness
that spreads like watercolour
over damp paper
into unexpected corners of my days

and love is
far too permanent and rooted
an idea

i know that this will leave
and return again
nestled in some other face

i think to myself how
it is as common and impossible to hold onto
as a season

as i watch the first sprawling days of summer
stretch out on the riverbank
behind your silhouette

this will end
like dew
drying imperceptibly into nothing
under the sunshine of ordinary days

it took several seasons for me to learn
that what matters is not the dewy gleam
but the roots
and that there are wise
and nearly silent melodies
carried there

in the complete stretch of history i can see how
every time i felt this pull
to join with someone
it was because there was some part of them that i needed
to learn by heart

people who are so immersive that you want to cocoon inside them
have a way of adding something
to your wings

the dew leaves
but the new roots stay

i do not mistake the untouchable hands of the musician
for the tune
which i will touch completely
curling my toes into it
as it curls into me

until it becomes a part of me
and i carry it

5 thoughts on “Chrysalistenning

  1. I cannot tell you how much I needed to read this poem, right now. I love your husband. Thank you, Liz & Gary, for your honesty with each other and with the world.

  2. Pearce Kilgour says:

    *snaps fingers* Great writing poet!

  3. This, this right here manifests my experience into the reality of the larger sphere. To be informed – so eloquently, so lyrically – that this emotional immersion is not unique to me is powerful. It facilitates a depth of comprehension and a release of guilt that is long-sought. Far from inappropriate. Thank you for the resonance.

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