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The Soul and The Spine

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #195. Come and share!



When it blew out the candle,
It began to speak, voice low, 
eyes dimmer than flame.

Jenn believed, once upon
a childhood (she's still there...
but it's waning), it inhaled fire.

Spines, tonight. Gears ladder
bones and metal and plastic,
all that lived, rungs to heaven.

Heaven is a level of space
where you can't breathe 
so they used to send the dead.

When the flame goes,
it takes our memories with it.
But not bot files.

Maybe it believes 
she'll sleep easier if bots
go breathless, too.

It continues murmuring
and she pretends she's hearing
a confession in a box

Like the song her mother
plays when the dark stretches 
between signals

We can handle shocks.
She can handle the dark, the small 
not-flame of its eyes.

It's finally winter!! Which means bitmapped frost on the roofs, cold mornings, and a table full of succulents that are pretty much glaring at me because the kitchen window isn't the same as full sun on the patio...even if it is warmer there. At least there were no creatures sleeping in the pots (that I've seen). I really, really, really want to place an order for spring seeds and go out and pull down the moonflower vine & create an ACTUAL BED for them for summer but, alas, we're still in the where-are-we-going-to-be-this-year that's making me unsure whether to start yard projects that don't involve pots. However...if I end up going to Lake Jackson I might just stuff my parent's small garden tiller in the trunk and Do It Anyway. Bwahahaha. Now...back to the blankets and plant catalogues. 

-- chrissa

Comments

  1. FireblossomJanuary 22, 2022 at 7:01 AM

    Who could look at this image and not see a Reaper Dragon? I like it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Carrie Van HornJanuary 22, 2022 at 8:47 AM

    I love the eerie and spooky feel this holds. The stanza about heaven is mesmerizing. A wonderful write my friend! Yes winter is here, and i wish my living room was not half gutted out for repairs. :-(( May your succulents be forgiving and your day have some hot chocolate in it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. indybevJanuary 22, 2022 at 9:28 AM

    This conjured memories of my mother in her favorite chair with her seed catalogs in her lap, dreaming of Spring! (We have angry succulents in our kitchen too!)

    ReplyDelete
  4. HelenJanuary 22, 2022 at 1:35 PM

    Chrissa! So many wonderful lines ... I can't believe where the photography took you. When the flame goes, so go our memories ... my favorite.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Gillena CoxJanuary 22, 2022 at 10:50 PM

    Your fourth stanza about heaven presents a very new concept to me. You made me stop a while thinking about this new stillness.

    Happy Sunday

    Much love...

    ReplyDelete
  6. TruedessaJanuary 23, 2022 at 7:03 AM

    Heaven a level of space to send the dead - wow- hopefully, there is transformation in that
    space of light.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Sherry Blue SkyJanuary 23, 2022 at 9:49 AM

    I so love where your mind goes (and mine, when I read your poems.) Love the heaven where they send the dead bodies. And, especially "the small not-flame of its eyes".

    ReplyDelete
  8. qbitJanuary 23, 2022 at 1:00 PM

    "Heaven is a level of space / where you can't breathe / so they used to send the dead." That is all-time great.

    ReplyDelete
  9. JimJanuary 23, 2022 at 1:11 PM

    I once had a job offer to go to Lake Jackson but decided not.
    I like the transition device, segue ??, from episode to theory of getting to Heaven and what heaven is. I also liked "Jenn's" idea of the candle inhaling the flame. I think I'll remember that.
    Like people are funny, so I probably wouldn't tell. Mrs. Jim told this morning that I "walked on water but didn't do so well with spilled coffee." She was told she was funny.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  10. ms_liliJanuary 23, 2022 at 4:48 PM

    It is an image that makes the mind wander as you have made the character in your poem wander. Nice parallel.

    ReplyDelete
  11. purplepeninportland.comJanuary 23, 2022 at 4:53 PM

    "Heaven is a level of space
    where you can't breathe
    so they used to send the dead."

    What a witty poem, Chrissa! I love your notes as well.

    ReplyDelete
  12. .January 23, 2022 at 5:35 PM

    I don't want to copy the same as in the former comment, but after all those years here on earth I never ever thought that way. The logic in it is killing me... haha, this will stay with me a long time.

    Love your post in total!!

    ReplyDelete
  13. Sumana RoyJanuary 23, 2022 at 8:57 PM

    The poem has a never ending quality. Lovely to read.

    ReplyDelete
  14. phillip woodruff (jalopy dreams)January 27, 2022 at 11:08 AM

    this has a very "do androids dream of electric sheep?" feel to it. "Like the song her mother
    plays when the dark stretches between signals"... between signals. i like that. enjoyed this very much, well done.

    ReplyDelete

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