Damien Rice: "Cannonball"
Colorado sent me this song tonight. I said
I wish people didn't leave
pieces of themselves in my heart when they go.
She said
she finds solace in listening to songs
that hurt the hollow of her throat.
I imagined sitting on my porch,
swinging and watching,
picking shards of you from my steady, red-beating heart
with tweezers,
one small memory at a time...
solace lodged in my throat,
round and shining,
as if I'd swallowed the moon
when she was full of promises
and good intentions
and misplaced trust.
Maybe I will learn this song,
Cannonball,
so I can sit on my porch swing and
sing it to myself....
but I so rarely play my guitar any more.
I've stopped carrying a pick in my bra,
or maybe it's stuck there in my heart too
next to the songs I won't sing
with you.
Your poem was much better than the song or maybe I should say that your poem touched me in a very true way that the song couldn't. I think I am really going to enjoy reading something new from you every day!
ReplyDeleteDon't forget, Human Cannonball, there is a net waiting for you at the other end of the Big Top.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Vapor. I think that song is practically perfect, so I'm flattered that you think my little poem is in the same league.
ReplyDeleteI was worried I'd run out of things to say, but I don't think that will happen.
I'm likely to miss the net, Diplomat.
ReplyDeleteLots to love in this poem, Carol...love the strength of the closing:
ReplyDelete"I've stopped carrying a pick in my bra,
or maybe it's stuck there in my heart too
next to the songs I won't sing
with you."
Thanks, 'Zann. I usually let poem sit in the incubator for a few days or a year. I decided to just go ahead and post it last night. I've been thinking a lot lately about moving on and how slowly I do it.
ReplyDeleteOh my. I listened to that song many times while picking some shards from my heart. Your poem is perfect.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lisa. It's too bad you can't tell they're shards when you let them in. Masters of disguise, those shards.
ReplyDelete