If only we were covered in fur

on the wrist, the thigh
the between spaces of flesh
where our true names are written
in cursive, invisible ink. 
 
We reach down
 
      fingering
 
      not circular,
      but yes, cyclical
 
      autumn leaves
      clinging to the soles of our shoes
 
   blue veins.  The lack of oxygen apparent
   in the blood.
      
Purples begin as claret;
raised and already soft to the touch.
Some are deep inside
and we don't talk about those often,

      but when we do
 
            you can almost see the deer lying roadside
            raise its head, shudder
            and walk away from the wreckage.

Welcome, Andy. Nice work. Care to discuss the influences or inspirations for this piece?

It must the wound, the wound itself,
which lets us know and love,
which forces us to reach out to our misfit
and by a kind
of poetry of the soul, accomplish,
for a moment, the wholeness the drunk Greek
extrapolated from his high
or flagellated out of an empty heart,
that purest,
most tragic concumbence, strangers
clasped into one, a moment, of their moment on earth. 

-- Galway Kinnell

That is always such a difficult question to answer; partly because I believe devoutly in heteroglossia in poetry and also because what is inspiring isn't very inspirational at all (snippets of emails, overheard bits of conversation).  Well let's see...so many influences beyond the above to name anyway.  The poem is actually part of a new collection, which explores in some senses and along with other themes the connectivity of pain.  I'd have to give credit to writers such as Daniel Crocker, Dennis Hinrichsen, Sharon Olds, Denise Levertov, Frank O'Hara, Carl Phillips, and so many others for modeling their own efforts to reveal their personal 'soft spots" and serving as an inspiration to my own writing  Moreover, I can't deny that the confessionalism of Plath, the raw honesty of Addonizio, and the self-portraiture of Hilberry (Jane, not Conrad) motivated this particular piece, or at least midwifed it.  And finally, the idea of there being an origin to love, Aristophanes' speech and the platonic ideal (most definitely an intended pun), the movement toward healing that I think is universal in some ways...I guess that's all a part of it too.

Interesting. Thanks. I haven't heard someone mention the name of Sharon Olds in some time. I have an early book of hers and have always felt that it was a wonderful contemporary extension of the work of writers like Sexton and Plath.

I wasn't as impacted by her two latest collections, which I think were Wellspring and The Unswept Room respectively.  Without taking the time to reread them both, I'd have to say that they were both good books, but for whatever reasons I felt a more personal connection to Satin Says, The Father, and The Dead and the Living both in content and structure/craft. Nowadays I am very interested in poets writing across the field, that is who aren't language poets per se but who aren't afraid of using what the spaces on a page can say to the reader. 

Yes, it was The Dead and the Living that I had. Now I'll have to go home and dig that one up. Thanks.

Wow, that was a really strong & stirring piece. Now you've got me chasing you around the web looking for more.  ;)

Thanks so much for the kind words!  I have a website at www.adriennelewis.freeservers.com.  My work can also be found a few places online, all of which are listed on my site!

I'll be sure to check out your web page, Andy, thanks for posting this.

I feel like a spider on another spider's web, but I'm having trouble with the last four lines.

but when we do
 
            you can almost see the deer lying roadside
            raise its head, shudder
            and walk away from the wreckage.

The pronoun shift isn't as troublesome as understanding that the deer isn't walking away from the wreckage.  Upon my first read, I had to sort it out.  Nor is the deer doing the shuddering, grammatically speaking, of course.  The second person pronoun is.  Only by the enjambed line word-association is the deer shuddering in its death throe.  I thought it was the deer, raising its head, shuddering and walking away but I don’t think that is the intention.

you see, shudder and walk

Tying the subject, you, to the verbs, shudder and walk, is problematic.  That’s what I’m saying!  Whew!  Sorry, I’m pre-coffee.

Am I off here?  Should I drink my java juice and come back to this?

The ending reminded me of Stafford's Traveling Through The Dark.

Both pieces are powerfully emotive.

Eric -

I think the message of the last 4 lines is that the speaker is the deer - and it's meant to be surreal.

Of course a real deer wouldn't "raise its head, shudder and walk away from the wreckage", but a person who has been hurt can.

So when that person, speaking of the event in question, might appear as a deer would, a bit dazed in the head lights, but in the end they are strong enough to shake it off and walk away, even if they are not unscathed.

Personally the last 4 lines are my favorite part.

Andy, please correct me if I am wrong in this interpretation.

That's exactly it, Brandy. The subject/persona/verb confusion is intentional to show not just the deer, but the deer, the people, the persona writing the poem in its singular/individual form walking away because of the ability to speak of the pain -- or 'the color of our bruises' which itself embodies the notion that if we share the experience we can in some sense leave it all behind. 

I'm not familair with Traveling Through The Dark. I'm off to look it up though!

Thanks to everyone for your comments.  This forum is a wonderful experience in community!

very nice piece.  excellent imagery.

very nice poem. 

This poem makes me think of Rita Dove and Margaret Atwood.  It manages to say "poem" along 'free verse' lines of "prose" without becoming bogged down in verbosity.  The piece is nice on the 'eye ride', and the content offers a good mix of visual-verbal stimulation. 

CEO

Kind, kind words.  Thank you very much for the comparisons!