What is a poem to a creme brulee?
A tap, a crack, a crumb
Burnt sugar on your lip
And what is a creme brulee to a song,
An echo, little words
To taste upon your tongue
What is a song to a body
willing, a kiss like June
This fire in your mouth
But what is a body to a poem
Between sweet lines, this breath
Is all I have to offer
Love in the Time of Rockets
James always had roses and photographs. I always had schemes and costumes. We drew maps, swapped clothes and identity, names like the backs of trading cards. Always one more to catch, another to lose. He fed the carp in the garden pond; I let the cat inside when it rained. No man I’ve ever known had eyes as hopelessly big as his. No woman he ever knew wore skirts as impossibly short as mine.
There are not words for love when hearts are made of silk and helium. These days we drink tea from cups with broken handles and sing songs we forgot the words to. For fun, we put on our wedding clothes one last time. His smile is warmer than any Oklahoma heat wave.
No one ever wanted us to win, but in whispers and rumor we got a happy ending no one ever predicted. Roll credits, closing theme. We’ll meet in again in the next episode.
I’ve never been much of a poet. I thought I was, until I took a poetry class in college, taught by a Vietnam Vet who was never any less than 20 minutes late to class and realized, “Nope, I suck at this.” I have since burned/recycled every poem I have ever written. No need to thank me.
But after I finished the first draft of The Big Rewind, I woke up one morning with curious sentences bouncing around in my skull. I had been reading But Our Princess is in Another Castle, by B.J. Best, which restructured the way I was creating narrative as I functioned throughout the day. Even as I processed simple tasks, I was filtering them through winding, vivid poetics. And when I sat down to write, I would come back an hour later and have no recollection of constructing a sentence, a whole paragraph.
(It was fucking AWESOME.)
1. we are told to thanks/praise what the Creator has given us; in this same breath we are warned of idol worship
2. i’m a Rebel without an alliance
3. the tragedy of film, Luke, is that the actors grow old and weak. this shall not happen to Han Solo
4. two words: Dexter. Jettster.
5. i have left behind pokemon, power rangers, old toys in battered boxes. i will take only what i need to survive
6. You cannot make plastic my childhood. you cannot buy back from me what was never mine.
7. even if sands of time do not bury us, it is still possible to choke on the dust of Tatooine
There’s still time to win a copy of Jason Bates’ The Littlest Spoon! Just leave a comment or find me on Twitter @libbycudmore