Mad Love
by Bill Yarrow
“There's blood on your cheek, Galatea”
—Dr. Gogol in Mad Love
The time they drove through Delaware
listening to Poogy, planning the future
and she sat up like a Chagall bride, told
him she was afraid. “Of what?” he asked
“Of an icy life,” she said. No fear of that,
he assured her, and she believed him, madly
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Author's Note
This poem appeared in BLIP Magazine (now New World Writing), guest edited by Courtney Eldridge.
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
This poem was republished in The Jewish Journal.
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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love it
yay, blip
You never write a bad one. *
Ummm.. yes..
*
If I could count the times I've believed, madly...
Really like how this line - "and she sat up like a Chagall bride, told" - anchors the poem, Bill. Good piece. The couplet stanza wroks well here.
I am liking this one a great deal, Bill. fave
The world in Krishna's mouth here. Liked the Chagall ref and the sound of an icy life.
Not many words, but they all work! Great piece, Bill. I can even see the look in their eyes. *
A mad poem, insanely good.
"she sat up like a Chagall bride"
Love that line. *
A delightful set of clues! I've spent the past hour backtracking through history in a dozen different directions, playing the glass bead game, attempting to grasp the full significance of your pity poem. But is that ever possible?
Pithy poem, I should have written.
love this, madly. peace *
yes! love! fave.
"believed him, madly" - nicely thunk
This is right. Terrific poem here, Bill.
So much in so few words. *
cool!