Midlife, Middling

You showed me how easily

the cheesy wotsits crumbled through your fingers

sticky orange dust filling your hands

my heart pouring its molten mass onto your palms.

 

You hold out your hand

and laugh softly, beckoning, seducing,

wordlessly, I bend to lick off the crumbs,

nibble those long fingers,

caress my liquid heart aquiver in the scoop of your hands.

My tongue feels pure joy

electric flashes.

***

 

And then the morning-starved yell of one fat baby

pierced the thickening dawn

and that was it

dream gone

querulous mouths back demanding

running up and down those stairs

retrieving wellies and jumpers to pull on protesting limbs.

 

Yet that dream glow stayed with me all day

as I gave my serviceable Mum-shoes a miss

and slipped on lethal heels.

That day I felt attractive again.

 

We first kissed under the laden waft of Chernobyl

all that summer we were ablaze

counting the hours since our last kiss

you only knew my body in its sinewy smoothness

not the quaver softness of child-stretched flesh

you only remember hopes and ideals

not the compromises and shortfalls

I like the picture of myself in your mind’s eye

still dewy potential, spirit and energy.

 

But then the pale sceptre arises with rueful smile

admitting, ‘I’m tired now. I’m off to bed.’

 

34 thoughts on “Midlife, Middling”

  1. Love this, Marina, and can relate … I hope at least that you held that dream long enough that you could continue that dream in your sleep. :-)

  2. Sadly, I never recaptured that dream, but it did lead to me starting to write poetry again after a XXX years’ hiatus! So all’s well that ends well…

  3. “We first kissed under the laden waft of Chernobyl
    all that summer we were ablaze
    counting the hours since our last kiss
    you only knew my body in its sinewy smoothness…”

    I love these lines, Marina; so profound!

  4. smiles… the life of a mother – beautifully exhausting – ha – wellies and all – strangely enough i felt really attractive when in was pregnant – the weeks after the baby was born not so much…oy

    1. Ah, yes, those months and even years went by in a haze of sleep-deprivation and lots of unidentifed messes on floors and clothes… we all need a little dreaming in our lives, right?

  5. Pretty cool that the dream brought you back to poetry. It is hard as children and years start to wear on you to feel pretty or sexy. Sometimes we have to be reminded. Very well constructed Marina

    1. It was indeed – and, funnily enough, the person with whom I shared that first kiss under the cloud of Chernobyl also became a writer and poet subsequently (though not as a result of my dream).

  6. Sometimes it is hard to get back to reality after this kind of dream, however hard we may try. I did well in capturing the feeling of adolescence and its romantic idiosyncrasies. As for the aging of our bodies, I like to think we age better than our foremothers.

    1. Ah, but my foremothers were shepherdesses and farmers, with strong bodies and piercing minds well into old age, so I fear I may be a bit of a disappointment to them with my ‘weak city ways’.

  7. Ah, sometimes it is good to look back at those times…when we can enjoy thinking about ourselves as being seen in another’s eye, when those hopes and ideals were alive, and life was stretched out ahead of us on the horizon!

  8. Now that my 3 children are grown up, I can look back at to those early days with a smile ~ But still its nice to recall our younger and more spirited selves, all dewy eyed with ideals ~ But mid life is not so mad as I think you have the best of both worlds yet, though it can be tiring ~

  9. I am so glad you used this poem for this prompt, that it was the poem that brought you back to poetry. Cheesies, Chernobyl, wellies…..from one part of your life to another and then, back to the future and your wonderful poetry. I so enjoyed this trip down the wormhole with you!

  10. I bend to lick off the crumbs,
    nibble those long fingers,
    caress my liquid heart aquiver in the scoop of your hands.
    My tongue feels pure joy
    electric flashes.

    Such a beautiful & sensuous piece :) Well penned :D

  11. Ah.. young love lives young when free and young.. with youth
    welling in spirit free of new alive.. in sensuous delight
    of living flesh.. oh to renew.. to live again..
    in now.. in ecstatic delight.. of flight..
    i find that within..
    with willing
    mate
    or not..
    smiles..
    life is long..
    but life is good..
    even without THAT..
    to breathe is enough for me..:)

  12. i like the dream that enlivens a soul….”I like the picture of myself in your mind’s eye / still dewy potential, spirit and energy.”…my favorite lines and i think it’s a kind of dream too….

  13. I love the flow of this….its powerful yet sensuous and exciting to the ear…you could take any subject and run away with it in poetry I am sure..great memory for the prompt

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