The clock is digital, he is thankful,
no ticks of inevitability to disturb
the cottony silence in his heart
Orpheus ran away, chased off by
unfamiliar sheets and hiss of tires on the
wet pavement of a sterile street
He whimpers into another restless night,
wondering where he is, how far from home,
tracking slat shadows on the walls
Another road dog dream, her mahogany eyes
caressing his at a distance of desolate miles
while his hands reach for her, to close on air
Flood tide of reality rolls in on an empty bed,
the nightstand drawer empty of Gideon,
and he fears knowing only the memory of salvation
06 February 2011
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Dude.
ReplyDeleteI hear you. I have so been there.
me tooooooooo. hands full of nothing
ReplyDeleteI don't travel solo very often. Being alone n a strange hotel room is very odd. Not sure I liked it.
ReplyDeleteI travel alone...all. the. time. Don't like it. But I do often meet God there...
ReplyDelete(Please delete if this is a repeat) Man, this is fine. I love the take, if I get it right -- Orpheus here failed to rescue Eurydice because he CHOSE not to, or rather, he freaked at the last minute and split. Another man saved from love ... but he's haunted by the closeness of the encounter, and her memory can't leave him. Of course, he isn't vigiling outside the realm of the Otherworld -- that's his heart he can't or won't enter. He's a stranger in his own land. Last line is a roundhouse right, pal: absolute wallop. -- Brendan (PS - Your poem has me inspired to post, in a day or so, a poem a wrote from Eurydice's perspective.)
ReplyDelete@blueoran: Thank you! That is quite an insight. Funnily enough, upon rereading the post I realize I meant to write "Morpheus" rather than "Orpheus". However, there are elements of the Orphean myth that fit rather nicely, too, so I'll leave it as it stands :)
ReplyDeletediving deep, Irish. rich imagery, beautifully placed on the 'page.'
ReplyDelete