Monday, September 12, 2011

Olden Days

Olden Days

The olden days. The vague, full-skirted
past. Everything that happens or lives

belongs to it, to the cape flung round
the shoulders of each molecule.

The olden days are comforting, memory
that exists with no mind to box it in,

a pasture. Butter churns and chain mail.
Alchemy, chimney sweeps, pin curls

and blood letting and powdered skin.
Those charming ignorances that did not

result in death or hatred or pain, like
mistaking the weather for moody gods,

or fearing what reading novels might do
to ladies reclining on velvet furniture.

When your body fails, as it is intended to,
the humans you have known and made

and spoken to will think of you. The past
will always be there for them and

for you, a darkness we were borrowed
from that waits for us to return.


  1. One of your best, Hannah. A quiet but intense meditation, full of wit and wise reflection. I've saved this to my 'Other people's Flowers' folder.

  2. Ah, Hannah. "the vague, full skirted past"..."ladies reclining on velvet furniture"..."a darkness we were borrowed from": warm details, provoking thoughts, loving sentiments, great sounds. Ah, Fall.

  3. Love this one. That phrase, "the vague, full-skirted past" really got me. I love how it juggles all the connotations of the phrase "olden days" and then lets those oranges roll along the floor....

  4. Fantastic phrasing throughout!

  5. Love this one, Hannah. Quiet, meditative,and respectful to the final exit which is inexorable. Bravo.

  6. Amazing! I should have read this first thing in the morning...though it makes me feel somewhat sad yet I feel not really sad!

  7. I like the cape flung around the shoulders of each molecule.

  8. "a darkness we were borrowed
    from that waits for us to return" what a perfect ending! I love the idea that our place of return includes the past.


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