Friday, September 16, 2005

Vapor Trails

Vapor Trails

Stain of last night’s nosebleed

on your pillow.

Sinking.

I was thinking of something else,

dreaming:

awash in light

you and I floating

in a religious triptych

angelic sort of way---

not really choking each other out.

not hung up on mortality.

but perfect holy bodies

making love to eternity.

Wrinkled bed sheets.

Ransacked drawers.

Sinking.

Knowing instinctively

your shoes will have walked away;

your toothbrush

has found its way from my cup.

I let my guard down

just long enough

for you to steal away

and the stealth your steps

were made of

was almost of floating

in a religious triptych

angelic sort of way.

I’ll wash the pillow

and the stains on its case,

stand on my balcony

and look for your footprints

in my morning dew.

No notes.

No lipstick on my mirror.

A half-eaten bowl of cereal.

Just like that

you’re vapor trails.

Gone.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Beautiful...so haunting! May I say that the contrast between yesterday's rant and today's poem is my favorite thing about your blog?

Intriguing to say the least...

Michael said...

Thank you. I get a bit worried about taking poems out of the Sometimes Sinister context. For example, here you have a poem that talks about a nosebleed that has no indicated origin and a woman leaving. Out of its context it becomes and almost spousal abuse type situation, but if you know the plot of my poetry project you know that it's about a man who falls in love with a cokehead, explaining the nosebleed in a totally different way.

Anonymous said...

Ah, but that's the beauty of poetry...a really good poem will stand on its own regardless of context.

Knowledge of the poet and their intention just adds to it...damn, my intro to poetry prof would be so proud!

By the way, my roomie really liked your Calgary reading...I'm gonna convert her yet. And my poet friend who was there said it was the best he saw that day- and he's damn critical! Coming back down to Calgary anytime soon?

Michael said...

Maybe with a bit of luck I will be able to secure a venue for a reading in Calgary again. I hate only being able to get down there once a year. The people treat me so well when I visit.

In the meantime, though, some radio station might be broadcasting the reading as it was recorded that day. I'm not sure how that would work what with mention of donkey punching, Cleveland steamers, and drug abuse in my subject matter, but you never know. Maybe Calgary radio is just more progressive.