Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Comfy

Comfy

We yearn to feel comfortable,
to imagine that the world babies us.

We baby the word, swaddle it
in down blankets, coo comfy into

the fleeced sheets. Discomfort
is temporary, we learn as infants,

as children, but even as adults
we pretend that comfort, fullness,

warmth will never lapse. Why
is this happening, we cry out

when it does, as the tabletop
inches out from under our hands,

place settings rattling in front
of us, knives and spoons clanking,

and then it is ripped away
from us, the floorboards, too, flaking

and splintering as they fall
into the windy, cavernous darkness.

Just as we locate our center
of gravity, the chaos fairy visits at night,

loops lead weights around
our limbs, ties balloons to our hearts.

In the morning, we wrap
ourselves in blankets, close our eyes.

Just five more minutes,
we implore our consciousness.

7 comments

  1. I can certainly relate to the last couplet! I like the idea of chaos fairies!

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  2. So much truth in this! Wonderful word pictures, too.

    The structure of this is interesting, as there's a building up to that middle scene with the table, followed by the pulling down while trying to float up, and finally falling away to just forget it all for "Just five more minutes".

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  3. I can relate to the last four couplets...my gosh, I was thinking that just this morning it seems or perhaps it is always in my subconcious...to make things easier from now on I will think of the chaos fairy, not the chaos monster...xoxo

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  4. I usually think of bad fairies, but your chaos fairies sound good, anchoring us.

    I do love to be comfy.

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  5. We expect the world to baby us, then become miffed when it doesn't...a concept you wrap well into this poem, Hannah.

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  6. Hi Hannah,
    I identify with this poem. We long for a feeling of comfort and that place where we feel centered, and secure in who we are and what we are doing; and then things get ripped up, in or around us, and we beg for five more minutes of sleep, or surcease, a delay, when we can pretend everything is all right.

    In the whole poem, and in these stanzas, these are great images and words:

    Just as we locate our center
    of gravity, the chaos fairy visits at night,

    loops lead weights around
    our limbs, ties balloons to our hearts.

    ReplyDelete

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