The day dawned when I was to write my 4th in a love-for-Denise Levertov series and there I was, in my pajamas, cutting wood for the set of First Kisses, the play I am directing at the Empty Space theater. I thought of Denise Levertov and her style of being sensory driven, present to the moment, and a witness to what she witnessed and experienced. She also has that "divine container" which I see as a presence on the spiritual, though it is more like a constant hum surrounding the poem rather than shouting "THIS IS ABOUT DIVINITY, READY! Check out my WEAVING IN OF THE SPIRIT! WOW!" it is more a hushed whisper that covers each word, sort of like the saw dust that coats both me and this poem.
February 7: Tech Week Begins
Saw
dust coats her skin
She
labors with this new love project
Memories
of sweat coating her skin
She
labored with her almost born love
The
pain with saw dust is birthed in her head
Not
her belly and back
The
incantations of focus, love,
Focus,
love
Fill her
hands with a familiar
Ringing,
“I can I can”
Check
list has a strike through
Before
the day officially begins
Harbinger
of the rest of the process-
We’ll
choose yes
No
moniter across her to check
The
movement of love, the pulse of love, just
Stacks
of lumber, triangles and
A
dusting of soft yellow on
The
table, the floor, the clamps
Her
eyelashes, her hair
Her
slippers, covered with love sawdust
Her
bedjacket, riddled with bits and pieces
All
that’s left is two more 1 X 4’s
Light
switch to up, lock clicks shut
Coffee
poured, final pushing begins
Bones
of the shack moved into place
Waiting
for pick up and moving
Her
hands, blistered beginnings
Testify
the beginnings of
Transition.
Love.
Lovely, a labour of love. You did a great job with this.
Pamela
Posted by: pamela | February 07, 2010 at 11:43 AM
From sawdust (like hushed whisper you said), then everything clicks into place.
Beautiful lines, these:
Bones of the shack moved into place
Waiting for pick up and moving
Her hands, blistered beginnings
Testify the beginnings of
Transition. Love.
Posted by: irene | February 07, 2010 at 06:20 PM
I think you carried the labor and birth metaphor throughout this poem very well. Absolutely lovely.
-Nicole
Posted by: Nicole Nicholson | February 23, 2010 at 12:56 PM