The severed heads
of roosters
littered the drive,
the yard.
We walked round them
unsure of what we’d missed—
some comic scene unfolding,
a drama
with cello music playing,
Hitchcock
standing
in silhouette.
I suppose I should
never have been
fooled,
but what did I know
of gallows?
There was fading light
in the lamps, and I was
distracted by
the pleasure
of softening together
like butter in the pan.
Really,
what did I know
of hatchets
in the shed
still warm with blood,
holding your hand
like a miracle
trying to avoid
the inevitable
slaughter at dawn?
Channeling Mister Plath? Like Hughes's poem about the crow challenging the sun, I think we lose at love far more often than we win. But if we knew from the start about the hatchets in the shed, would we ever take the chance? Probably not. Cue Bonnie Tyler.
ReplyDeleteI love it that you made it to the List!
Wow! It's like Film Noir put to pen! It's amazing. I enjoyed the build-up and casual horror of the played out scene. Hatchets, blood - "like softening together like butter in a pan" and "holding your hand like a miracle". Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThis takes me to my days of being a child and well the chickens in the yard became my chore to pluck. Also it later felt a bit like chicken days when romance broke my heart.
ReplyDeleteOooh! Dark and yet warm and melting like butter...
ReplyDeleteYour first "thriller" poem, Jennifer, that I've read anyway, and what a doozy it is, blood spilt and yet to be spilt, a slaughterhouse that leaves one's nerves reeling and yet . . . that homey image in the center. It catches one off guard. Beautifully rendered.
ReplyDeleteFirst, this is such good writing. Second, this made me remember as a very small child watching chickens literally running around for a bit after their heads were chopped off. Ack! I love "softening together like butter in the pan".
ReplyDeleteLove and slaughter - what else is there? How many times has a heart looking for its Mister Goodbar found itself in cabin with Hatchetface, "softening together / like butter in the pan" only to become the main course come breakfast? And is desire ever complete without offering one's throat to a savage kiss? Deliciously menacing work here, full of soft feathers and severed heads.
ReplyDeleteDark and rich, and finding a way to avoid slaughter is a good thing!
ReplyDelete"but what did I know of gallow?" indeed, this refrain echoed. grim and relentless and clear-eyed, Jen ~
ReplyDeleteHot damn, this is good, Jennifer! You literally had me with the first line and when we got to "Hitchcock standing in silhouette" I knew I was in the presence of greatness (that would be you, not Hitchcock!). And then the innocent question mid-way:
ReplyDelete"but what did I know
of gallows?"
The pleasure softening like butter, the whole dark underside of the scene...just utterly, utterly bewitching and beautiful (despite its dark side!!) Lovely to read you again :-)