(with a nod to Francis Thompson)
She ran
She fled
He was Maleness to her
He was Strength
He was deep sexual Lust
She ran from him
She rented a cottage near Misquamicut Beach*
And stayed there the entire off season
He was Intellect to her
He was Art and Creativity
He was dusty books
That he fed to her
In snacks, in meals
In three- course dinners
In after- hours nightcaps
She fled him down the days
And took a new life by the ocean
There were those who came to see her
There were those she would not see
She hid from him
And all his Masculine Virtue
Truth and Philosophy
She did not want his embrace?
She did not want his kiss?
She did want it
But she resisted it
She resisted it like torture
With all her might
She found a cold spot within her
And she rested there in a fetal position
She fled
She didn’t tell him she had left
She didn’t leave a note
She ran
The car was old and unsafe
She filled the tank and fled
She covered herself in sweaters and scarves
She didn’t care it was a blistery cold night
She fled him down the days
Escaping into the wicked reverie of dreams
She now dared
The winter was brutal and unrelenting
The wind a sour scourge
She didn’t care
She lit a fire and waited
She lit a fire alone
There were no electronics
There was only a wind- up clock
Torn rugs and chipped dishes
A tiny kitchen to sip her coffee
Drapes that never quite closed
Windows never quite down
Rooms half painted
With old smells
From former inhabitants
And their pets
She fled
She ran
She hid
He had unearthed her lust
He had drowned her in his passion
No lover came near him
No rival on the shelf
No rival on the horizon
He was Sex God
He was Mind
He was Artist
She ran from him
Into the underworld of her fears
She dove
Like a mermaid
Living by the sea in savage solitude
Gazing into fires
Gazing into herself
Writing graffiti to eternity
With her toes in the white sand
She spent the entire off season
There
(the butt of jokes; the object of gossip)
They would see her in her sweaters
And in her scarves
And know her fire was lit at night
While waves crashed and boomed
And wind waffled and whistled
They’d see her shadow on the walls
And wonder who she was
And where she came from
And what lover she had fled
What love that had been so vast
And uplifting, now rolling out with the tide
Like a dingy without a sail
Without a compass or a map
She fled him down the days
One unsafe car
And a full tank of gas
She hid
She ran
He never saw her again
He wrote her letters
He sent her cards
He slapped all his love on paper
And splattered it in her face
He vowed endless declarations
He promised the impossible, sincerely
He reminded her of ecstatic evenings
And lovemaking days of no end
He drew sketches that revealed her body to him
He painted enormous murals of her
And filled the city with them
He forced her memory wide open
He pried passed the flames into her frozen heart
She wept and howled with her face near the fire
She screamed into the waves
And kicked the sand as she bellowed
She crashed to the earth while wrestling a sea gull
And fell asleep in a dreamless land
She fled him down the days
Not out of love
Not out of hate
Not out of indifference
She fled him down the days
Because
Once when they stood in a mirror
Together
She could not see herself!
May 9, 2009
*Westerly RI
“She crashed to the earth while wrestling a sea gull.” This line makes me laugh as the round after round of passionate display of visuals within this vast, epic struggle for the self titillates all senses. I love the setup and resolution. Lovely piece.
There are so many wonderful lines here; “He was dusty books
That he fed to her”…”Gazing into fires.. Gazing into herself..
Writing graffiti to eternity.” This poem is fluid and alive and tells a story; the struggle of self and passion and beauty. With a thoughtful, satisfying ending. I love the title. Beautiful work.
“She fled him down the days”–a lovely cadence. In fleeing him, she flees herself and the passion he has awakened that so consumes her that she has lost her “self” in it. So daunting. And so she “fled him down the days” to seek solace in her “savage solitude.” I like how the images build as the poem unfolds. A very fine poem.