I was born to skate, he said,
Handing her a photo of a man leaping
Headfirst into a building.
My great-grandfather.
He just didn't have a board, yet.
He had this idea of a helmet,
A desire to fly,
Someone to catch him in the act.
A reckless two feet of flight.
I can take care of your girls--
The one who lies about her birthmark
And the one who lies about her sister.
She passed around the photo.
Told us as he spoke the dragon wheeled
Over the invisible nighttime park,
Just as reckless but without impact.
She agreed to take the skater.
She told us this in that salon.
Two weeks later it was closed...this plague...
I know I don't believe in draconic daughters.
But...when I wake up at 3 am
Her story slithers away from my dreams;
I imagine a reptile warmed by distress;
A man putting on a helmet, laughter
Alleviating the world for a second;
And a woman falling in love
With something else.
I imagine giving the photo back.
Greetings and salutations and welcome. I may not be convinced about dragons, but I'm almost sure that I'm living in an alternate reality and my family has finally and conclusively moved to the reality we left behind sometime in March. It's slightly different...maybe damaged in the separation? But still functioning. Anyway...if it wasn't so late in the month, I have a feeling the sisters might have formed the basis of a NaNoWrimo skeleton...and the skater would have had his reckless moment. And I would have gotten my knock-off Gormenghast, now, sadly, a broken-down collection of cheap tourist shops connected by a kiddie ride in which a person slides down track in a plastic bin decorated to look like ghosts flying through the building. It's not rated for safety, slide at your own risk.
-- Chrissa
Sharing today with The Sunday Muse and Poets and Storytellers United.
There's an allure to that sort of bold energy, especially when you are young. But boldness with no brains is a Very Bad combination, especially if it turns out to be nothing but braggadocio in the end.
ReplyDeleteIt's stunning, this poem--full of original images like an avant-garde art show, all a little on the surreal side. You always amaze me with your ability to find the odd but right disjointed phrase--here I'm struck by "...I imagine a reptile warmed by distress..." that is a poem in itself. Everything here screams another reality, a bit of history slipped out of its place--yet it seems an alright sort of place, especially compared to what passes for reality now. A pleasure to read.
ReplyDeleteI can't stop staring a the picture. It made me turn on the light to see his face, the helmet, and read the poem twice. Nice write.
ReplyDelete"but I'm almost sure that I'm living in an alternate reality and my family has finally and conclusively moved to the reality we left behind sometime in March"
ReplyDeleteOMG!!! sometimes that is also my reverie
Happy you dropped by my blog today Carrie
Much💝love
Love this: "Her story slithers away from my dreams; I imagine a reptile warmed by distress;" And at the very end, you can't un-see, you can't give the photo back.
ReplyDeleteThat is a rather telling picture, as your poem puts is so well.
ReplyDeleteAnd about the realities of the current times, well... don't get me started. I'm pretty certain we are living in a maze of realities.
Love this line in your oh-so-surreal tale 'her story slithers away from my dreams.' It was Friday the 13th for us in Bend Oregon.
ReplyDeleteYour imagery is a magical tale all it's own Chrissa! A spectacular write that matches our strange times and the image beautifully!!
ReplyDeleteAn enchanting foray into the netherworld. That reptile warmed by stress gave me shivers for sure!
ReplyDeleteSort of like passing on a curse in order to be rid of it?
ReplyDeleteAdored the write. No special line/s. Indeed surreal and I sense a nonchalant acceptance of the status quo in the poem.
ReplyDeleteI love the reptile warmed by distress, too! Always a treat to read you, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteWhat a delightful poem Chrissa about the absurdities of us all.
ReplyDeleteChrissa, you {???} have an adventurous family. Reminds me of the small girl who used to scoot all around the neighborhood on her electric scooter. I didn't know her but either she had an accident or got stopped by the fuzz because I haven't seen her for quite some time. A buddy of mine and I once considered getting a balloon pilot license each using two lawn chairs buoyed by the correct amount of balloons for keeping us in the air. I got married instead.
ReplyDelete..
A very cool and intriguing piece of writing.
ReplyDelete'I'm almost sure that I'm living in an alternate reality' – ME TOO – in fact: I'm sure of it.
Fascinating! You hint at a whole world of otherness – I mean besides the alternate reality we're all sharing just now.
ReplyDeleteA strange, magical, intriguing piece. Perfect for the times we are drowning in.
ReplyDeleteThis piece is fascinating.
ReplyDeleteAmazing writing as always, Chrissa. No, you can't give the photo back, or go back in time to March.
ReplyDelete