The Passageway

Cherry

By Luke Neima

Thu, 13 Feb 2014
  • 5679 reads
13 comments
 

There was this passageway, 
Long, rich, ferned. Pools, an old stairway, statuary. 
There are some leftover spines and a reading chair and the echo is pleasant in the afternoon.

Then we have some orange juice and this other person turns to stone.
It is hard to speak with them because they are made of stone.
The tide comes in and folds the lip-corners down. The eyes drain, solidify, stare straight ahead.
One of us leaves the passageway.

Another day, a long time ago, I was stepping out of a boat and tripped and hit my head very hard.
Sometimes in the passageway my head starts bleeding again and it becomes difficult to see, but I can still hear the statues calling out to one another.
It is hard for them to see, too, almost as hard as it is for a stone to call out to another stone.

Because we are bleeding so much we are suited only to stumbling together, to pulling each other down or holding each other up, wailing and laughing as we go, halting only to wail or to laugh again, in a slightly different pitch, or to half-wail, half-laugh. 
We are not sure which of us knows that it’s just a joke.
Jokes, one of us knows, are harmless and easily told.

One afternoon we avoid the passageway.
It turns out you are an island,
Where I am castaway.
I am drinking Fanta, wearing slightly too little sunscreen, uncomfortable but glad of the warmth,
Struggling and unable to build a proper sandcastle.

A gull whistles, too far out to be seen but 
it is surely soft-headed and damp-eyed and garbage-breathed.

Castaways have good reasons to be castaways, as everyone knows:
They forget to do their homework, they make inaccurate claims on their tax statements, they eat with their mouth open, they turn into statues.

Sometimes the island shifts and water comes rushing through the passageway, like a cloud closing. We could fold up the ocean and put it in the wash but for the noise of it, shaking and spinning and keeping us awake all night long.

Certificate PG
Poem
Romance

Comments

Submitted by scratch on

Excellent.  

Rich, haunting and well chosen words.  Sophisticated enjambment heightens the whole read as the reader is swung back and forth between the years and the memories.  The narrator's voice seems plaintive yet somehow resigned to their circumstances.  This would be a worthy choice for a POD in my opinion.  It's super to see another piece from you too.

 

Submitted by Luke Neima on

Thanks for the vote of confidence Scratch! This is the first poem I've written in a very long time and I had fun with it - I'm also glad to finally have something new to share.

Submitted by Bee on

I liked the child-like quality of the sentences  - eg. 'Another day, a long time ago, I was stepping out of a boat and tripped and hit my head very hard.' For me, the apparent simplicity is what takes you back and forth, as mentioned by scratch.

And I loved - 'Because we are bleeding so much we are suited only to stumbling together, to pulling each other down or holding each other up, wailing and laughing as we go, halting only to wail or to laugh again, in a slightly different pitch, or to half-wail, half-laugh.
We are not sure which of us knows that it’s just a joke.' And the addition of -(in a slightly different pitch) - that made me smile.

I found the language throughout very endearing. But my favourite is the last line, the idea of wanting to fold up the ocean and put it in the wash if it weren't so noisy, shaky and spinny that it would keep you awake. 

Great voice - delightful poem.

Enjoyed very much.

Bee

Submitted by VeraClark on

Steeped with atmosphere and that senselessness love brings. A captivating poetic voice that is rich in quirky imagery.This should be a pick of the day.

 

Submitted by scratch on

I agree.

 

Submitted by Luke Neima on

Thanks Vera and Bee (and Scratch) for your kind comments - I'm glad you liked the voice and didn't find it all too surreal.

Submitted by blackjack-davey on

I like the rhyme between passageway and statuary and the realistic details about the process of enchantment. The change to statue could be some severe catatonic state but it hits a powerful human need: to be still and watching and preserved, outside the current of life but still conscious of the tide of human activity. I agree with Bee part of the poem's strength is the clear and sophisticated detail mixed with the childish voice: fanta, lack of sun cream etc

Very much enjoyed the list of things that people choose to set themselves adrift! fact and abstract and super-real. the only thing I had to reread and wasn't sure I understood was the word 'spines...'  are  they spines of ex-readers (now spineless ones), are they spindles of furniture?

 

Submitted by hudsonmoon on

It turns out you are an island,

Where I am castaway.

one of many favorite lines, Luke. Read it three times. Enjoyed the flow of the piece.

Rich

 

Submitted by celticman on

I'm a bit of a castaway myself, hard-headed.

 

Submitted by Luke Neima on

Thanks for the feedback! The spines are old books / dead things, something of a pun - maybe a bit of a jagged one and out of place with the tone. But glad you enjoyed the island bit, hudson! Was trying to approach 'no man is an island' in a new way.  

Submitted by prettyrose on

smileyHi Luke, This poem really shows how talented you are, yeswell done and the well deserved Cherries.

 

It really swept me a way and enjoyed every senctence, but really liked ;

'Sometimes the island shifts and water comes rushing through the passageway, like a cloud closing.'

smiley Keep Smiling

Keep Writing xxx

Submitted by Stuart Cannell on

At times, funny, dark, listless, rhythmic and somehow just about cohesive. A grand experiment that entirely pays off.

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Dream-like and haunted with flashes of childhood memory (to me, anyway).  I love the garbage-breathed description of the gull - great observation just waiting for its moment.  Loved it.  More poetry, please.

Parson Thru