Saturday, April 2, 2011

Feed Your Pain

You are holding it so tightly,
Trying to bleed it knuckle-dry with your fists,
Bury it in blankets and sighs,
Ashamed of your dear little pain.

But perhaps your pain has fur and teeth
And wants feeding:
Fresh walnuts and white goat brie.
Perhaps your pain bites sharp
In red rounds of radishes
Or stings keenly like vodka
In breathtaking gulps,
And only sniffs the salad
You offer it.

Perhaps your pain rises in chunking clumps,
A funicular up the slopes,
Flushed full of Bull’s Blood
And bittersweet chocolate covered marzipan.
Perhaps your pain is suffused
With tarragon
And melts so slowly over warm petit pans.
Perhaps your pain cries
High in summer trees
For fraises des bois in cream
And asks:
Darling, are you happy, or very happy?

Perhaps,           Finally,
Your pain stretches out next to you,
Trimmed green on a hillock
Of blazing white daisies
And goldenrod fringe,
And asks only      only
 for one more kiss.


  1. you make me dizzy. how do i comment on one poem? i forget all the rules of blogging 'cause i'm caught in that in between when you wrestle/play fight with something and you think you're having fun but there's something else there too with some uncontrollable momentum. i am wrestling that fury ball of pain with teeth. fun or that other thing, i'm lost in the momentum unaware.

    awesome writing.


  2. miss jane, do you mind that i've linked to you? i am quite enamoured with this piece. it's a small pink prompt on my sidebar that i'll change from time to time. will you let me know if this is alright?


  3. It's alright. I'm thrilled, actually, as I have become a big fan of your blog.

  4. I agree with Erin! This is fantastic. A smile burst onto my face at But perhaps your pain has fur and teeth . . . !

    Then you go to Paris! and food and elegance, all the things that pain can be, because we are not bounded people, living only in joy, or only in pain. They are our children and our lovers.

    This is lush, and gorgeous, and I am just enamored too. Brilliant.

  5. Only a chef could whip up this confection so delicate and raw at the same time. Muah! Tres exquisite! - Brendan (yeah, that prodigal fan of yours)

  6. I've dropped in from Erin's.
    (...a funicular up the slopes...) I'm there with you.
    Every image a new feeding, a new beginning.
    Even your blog title is food for thought.