by Penny Goring
when I worked in the pet shop I sunk my arse in the fish tanks
sunk my tits in the freezer at the supermarket
sunk my brain in the stacks at the library
sunk my looks in the lights at the club
sunk my liver in the glass at the bar
on a day trip to the London Aquarium, I felt the ennui of the squid, puked at the drift of the jellyfish, saw through the eye of the shark, stroked the sadness of the stingray, longed for the lapping of water
I sunk my hope in your shallows
Dithering on the seafront, eyed-up by a leery moon, waves came crashing over my head carrying all the junk I'd sunk, throwing it down at my feet. My legs dissolved beneath me and I saw what I'd often suspected — a long tail of rubbish was pouring from my hips with shocking ease.
My feet had always been clumsy, cringing inside my clodhoppers, my legs had always been tardy, flagging beneath my skirts. This sinuous tail flipped proudly when it met the cold slap of the ocean, and I swam gracefully, in search of the famous escape.
The weight of my heart dragged me in dangerous directions.
It delivered me to this unknown rock, where trees meet on hill-tops to tangle dark branches under fog shot with dankness and blight, and I am always welcome because I am the only one — and the funny birds who tell no jokes, and the giant bile-squirting flowers, and the delirious prancing monkeys, and I have nothing in particular to say, and I say it again and again
I burn
I send smoke signals
I am the message in the night
I didn't dream I could ever be happier — until I found the bottomless pit.
My heart was dying from inherent weaknesses. I trimmed the unwanted anchorage roots — they were thick and fleshy, it was really a job for two people — then I kissed it goodbye. No window box or greenhouse, kitchen garden or orchard, no digging deeply in autumn
I sunk my heart in the sinkhole.
I studied my reflection, it didn't look any different, cooled my tail in the rock pools, built battlements with the pebbles. You said you could never put a time on us — we could end tomorrow, we could go on for years.
Tentative tendrils crept from the hole. I chopped them back. A crooked tree grew. I hacked it down. It grew stronger and even more twisted. I called it beautiful, called it ugly, nurtured it with my moody weather. It never blossomed but it sprouted fruit with the flavour of offal.
You arrived on the eye of a vicious storm — my storm, not yours — riding two snarling dogs, trailing clanking empties, black tar oozing from your pores, spikes shining from your shoulders, screaming lies about forgiveness.
Speak to me in foreign, I don't want to understand. If words were piss you would drown.
You sunk your fist in my face
You jacked off on my flowers
You jacked up in my forest
You sunk your teeth in my fruit
You ate my heart and it choked you
No pomp required
I sunk your body in the sea
toilet seats, wrist-watches, buckets, mobile ‘phones, lockets, charms, bangles, bottles, corks, forks, bunches of car keys, table legs, doll's legs, deflated balls, flip-flops, used condoms, bicycle wheels
I burn
I send smoke signals
I am the warning in the night
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water
I'll let the poets here give you more professional feedback, but I do want to say that the feelings evoked from your imagery gave me shivers. It's such a real, punch in the gut type of loss and confusion. Very nicely done.
I like the fierce sustained energy of the language all the way through this, how it builds without flagging and rises even higher to meet its crash of a denoument.
The first thing I thought after reading this poem is WHO IS THIS WOMAN? This is a tornado and feels so true. Love this, Penny. More, please. Fav.
"on a day trip to the London Aquarium, I felt the ennui of the squid, puked at the drift of the jellyfish, saw through the eye of the shark, stroked the sadness of the stingray, longed for the lapping of water" ... Fantastic. "I am the message in the night." yes, I think you are.
Kin hell, Penny! I'd read this before but I read it better this time. Brilliant and scary. I wouldn't change a thing. So a fave-star for you, and XXX!
Ha! Thank you for re-reading! Same thing happened to me - read it a few days ago & thought, christsake, this is utter gibberish & yet when I read it this morning I thought it made some kind of sense. Weird, huh? x
Fascinating, Penny. I appreciate the images and form and find myself wanting to read this again and again in order to frame all of the responses that are coming to mind...
Fierce imagery and emotion, well sustained throughout, a blast of words.
this has brilliant passion and burns like a torch. amazement.
This has so much passion and creativity in it, I love it! It speaks a dozen different languages, but like the best music, it gets heard and understood in the beat. Beautiful.