Before
by Lori Lou Freshwater
The last time they made love she could feel the hint of pain and loss which would become her. There were still the moments of god she always knew with him, but there was a confusion that began to interrupt what had been the silence that could only be heard when she took someone she loved like that inside. When she took them inside of everything she was, will be, and had been. The last time they made love there was a strange separation, a fluid wall of water which could not be pushed or pulled or moved. She could only dig her nails into the warmth of him in order to quiet it, to calm it, to bully it. The last time they made love there was a her and a him, but always there was also them. The last time they made love she loved the smell of his unwashed hair, his statue calves, his blond eyes and soft and rough lips, the way he took control of her hips. She loved him in ways she could never make him believe. She loved him. The last time they made love she loved him so much she forgot to breathe. A moment which would become all she could think of, because the last time she made love to him she had no idea it would be the last time they made love.
Love the repetition of 'the last time' and how the lines and their images fold into each other. Beautifully done. *
Great! Fave!
Outstanding use of phrasing throughout, Lou -
"She could only dig her nails into the warmth of him in order to quiet it, to calm it, to bully it."
This compact form has punch. Especially like the use of anaphora. This helps bridge... flash and prose poem.
Love the way there is a knowledge in the body that isn't in her mind. Beautifully done. *
Just flat out great writing. Brilliant. Heart-wrenching.
Sexy and sad. I adore your description of the woman's lover. "The last time they made love she loved the smell of his unwashed hair, his statue calves, his blond eyes and soft and rough lips, the way he took control of her hips."
I resisted this prose poem at first...I thought, here we go again. "The last time they made love blah blah blah." And then your language and the depth of feeling took me somewhere against my will. This is rare. Fav
This is quite an effective piece. The writing is heartbreaking and beautiful.
Agree with D'Arcy, in that I too resisted, but for me, it was the content, the sincerity of emotion that came through. This goes beyond what anyone could call a prose poem and makes its premise clear, human, tender in its mood.
The last time, in retrospect, 'would become all she could think of.' Powerful story, well written.
"The last time they made love she loved him so much she forgot to breathe. A moment which would become all she could think of, because the last time she made love to him she had no idea it would be the last time they made love."
Very moving.
Thank you all. Someone has been pushing me to risk sentimentality more often, and I knew this was certainly taking it right up there to the line - which makes your hesitancy understandable D'Arcy and James. I'm glad to know it worked okay for you all. Much appreciation for your thoughts and support.
I resist sentimentality too, and I agree with Kim's comment, what she knows in the body versus what is in the mind, that made it work for me. Plus, there's a sparseness to the phrasing that works well against what might otherwise be treacly. Heartbreaking to read.
Great writing from beginning to end, Lou -- I loved this when I first read it; love it now too. You handle the sentiment well, because the language is tough, straighforward. I really like that wall of water between them, too.
Strong, passionate,deliberate chronicle of the painful realization that it's over.
Thank you Cherise, Michelle, and Daryl. I truly appreciate you reading and offering your thoughts. It's priceless.
saw this at 52|250 already but reading it here again was worth it. a wonderful piece - i love how it's both carefully built around "the last time..." and sound like spontaneous exploration almost as if the narrator surprises herself. it's also damned sexy. sexy-sad.
Thank you, Marcus. I'll take sexy-sad any day. ;-)
This is a completely beautiful very short story with a label for a title. It needs a title.
"The last time they made love she loved the smell of his unwashed hair, his statue calves, his blond eyes and soft and rough lips, the way he took control of her hips."
*
Thanks for making me sad, Lou. It's the thing I most appreciate as a reader, feeling that sadness that comes from a story that connects like an arrow through the meat and into the bone. This is great.
Ann, again thank you.
Sheldon, we are the same, which is why your words mean so much. Thank you.
You know this is one of my favorite pieces you've written. Makes me ache. Peace *
Great writing. I like, "There were still the moments of god she always knew with him..."
Lou, I enjoyed the way you included the unmoveable wall of fluid as an image of that "apartness" we all share and try so hard to remove.
Matthew, Linda, and Grey, thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment.
Very poignant story of a painful need to comprehend a loss. Well done.