like a paper cut
like milk left too long steaming for your coffee
like the pot hole in the driveway
like the faucet dripping in the bathroom in the middle of the night
like the smell of sausage and eggs on Sunday morning
like cutting grass in a field of Spring onions
that's what it's like
I like this a lot--first the alluding to everyday annoyances, the ones that nag at you. And then, good memories (smells) too that will always be popping up from time to time. You find everything reminds you of your pain: good things and bad things.
ReplyDeleteThanks Erin, I re-wrote it at least a dozen times to try to get that very thing you discerned in as few words as possible.
DeleteThe last two specific images are long time memories of my Dad - the sausage and eggs was his ALWAYS Sunday breakfast and the cutting grass, etc. is one of my most vivid memories from the house on Powder Springs Rd. That was the memory that spurred the whole poem.
Raw
ReplyDeleteAs in, a tongue throbbing from its visits to the jagged tooth
As in, the fresh sweet smell of new-ripped lumber
As in, the icy cold that strips your eyeballs
As in, feelings when misunderstood or misjudged
As in, the sting of humiliation or derision
As in, heart after Mike's death
As in, the headlong rush of words on paper when the brrier is lifted.
Lisa Sajna
2002