Where the Nineties Lie

go look if you must,
where they are, those years that passed,
hollowed out days and curl-tipped nights,
folded and creased,
out of the sun’s knowing reach;
put your hand through
that unremembered morass,
does she rustle in the echo of your breath,
a poem whose words have withered away,
memory holding an empty notebook
in its silent bones;
what is left of that day
when the moon turned tricks in the river,
silver arches heaving in her crescent arms,
how does it feel, that freedom,
decomposed, it’s insides peeling
flaccid and parched,
all those lines we drew,
dividing spaces, names,
tips of unyielding smiles sawn off
to fit our stencilled squares;
go look if you must,
the nineties are unravelling,
somewhere there,
sift through the ashen residue,
elbow deep in lifeless weeks,
the fetid air drawing you
into her timeless lair;
go look if you must,
carry a compass, a map,
mark your sky with motionless stars;
the unlived past is a nubile mistress,
i’m not sure
from where she lies,
there is a way,
anyway,
back home.

Advertisements

17 thoughts on “Where the Nineties Lie

  1. Wow! Come to think of it, the potential of love in the 1990s of my life was extremely high and quite definitely narrowed by the boxes I chose. Shall I regret? Try to find my way there? Facebook, with its frequent arrivals of aged people/memories of connections, occasionally sparks, but it is no way. But I’ve been opening long sealed boxes to write about those days. I wish I had written this poem. A line of Yeats’ “When you are old” echoes through here. Which is the “Pilgrim soul”–the one who stayed or left?

    Like

  2. “when the moon turned tricks in the river,
    silver arches heaving in her crescent arms,
    how does it feel, that freedom,
    decomposed, it’s insides peeling”

    This is one of my favourite verses of yours. You write so fluidly that some of the words slide past me, if I blink.

    Like

  3. We can’t go back to look but our memories do remind of those days even giving us feelings of regret or longing for something we did or didn’t do. Either way it doesn’t matter for being still alive there is still more living to do.

    Like

  4. I love the play on the human body and the moon and elements – particularly -when the moon turned tricks in the river -there is a sense of time lost but also of time spent which was hopefully good

    Like

Please leave a Thot...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s