Adipocere Is One Of My Favorite Words
And saponify has a kind of sing-songy, ghetto-vernacular melody about it. One of these Fridays, you'll see both of those words in a poem right here.
Because it is still Friday, I'm not late with this week's poem, technically. I wrote the following ditty, oh, about 6 or 7 years ago I suppose. It has something for both ornithologists and seekers of lust mord alike.
All things to some people,
Cindy
ALARM
Two starlings at my window sill,
Tapping at the glass—
To announce today that Death had come.
I looked away at once.
They tapped again, louder still
As if I didn’t hear
Their awful news, delivered prompt
When they first appeared.
I heeded them
And thought I must
Promptly call on those
Dear to me, to see, alas,
Who, from me had gone.
Their message borne,
Their task complete—
The birds were free to go.
One flew away;
One stayed behind—
Oh, My God! What now?
I let him in,
He perched awhile;
I waited for a sign.
When he felt
The time was right,
He asked me for my soul.
I told him I
Was still alive,
My soul was mine to keep.
He asked again,
I told him no—
This went on and on.
I went about
My daily tasks
As if he wasn’t there.
I offered every now and then,
The door for him to leave.
He refused, then nighttime fell,
I asked if he’d be missed.
He said “By whom?”
--The other bird…
the one I saw you with.
He waited there quite patiently.
I, more restless grew.
The dreaded fate
Of which he spoke
Encroached upon me now.
My vision became cloudy,
I tired so at once.
My body became burdensome—
A thousand moments passed.
A transformation came about—
Then I stirred anew.
I felt so much lighter now,
As if I were a bird.
Be it bird or angel,
This guardian of mine:
That stubborn thing
Who waited ‘til
Deliverance had come.
And now that task
At last fulfilled,
We prepared to fly.
He went on, ahead of me
And opened up the door.
Because it is still Friday, I'm not late with this week's poem, technically. I wrote the following ditty, oh, about 6 or 7 years ago I suppose. It has something for both ornithologists and seekers of lust mord alike.
All things to some people,
Cindy
ALARM
Two starlings at my window sill,
Tapping at the glass—
To announce today that Death had come.
I looked away at once.
They tapped again, louder still
As if I didn’t hear
Their awful news, delivered prompt
When they first appeared.
I heeded them
And thought I must
Promptly call on those
Dear to me, to see, alas,
Who, from me had gone.
Their message borne,
Their task complete—
The birds were free to go.
One flew away;
One stayed behind—
Oh, My God! What now?
I let him in,
He perched awhile;
I waited for a sign.
When he felt
The time was right,
He asked me for my soul.
I told him I
Was still alive,
My soul was mine to keep.
He asked again,
I told him no—
This went on and on.
I went about
My daily tasks
As if he wasn’t there.
I offered every now and then,
The door for him to leave.
He refused, then nighttime fell,
I asked if he’d be missed.
He said “By whom?”
--The other bird…
the one I saw you with.
He waited there quite patiently.
I, more restless grew.
The dreaded fate
Of which he spoke
Encroached upon me now.
My vision became cloudy,
I tired so at once.
My body became burdensome—
A thousand moments passed.
A transformation came about—
Then I stirred anew.
I felt so much lighter now,
As if I were a bird.
Be it bird or angel,
This guardian of mine:
That stubborn thing
Who waited ‘til
Deliverance had come.
And now that task
At last fulfilled,
We prepared to fly.
He went on, ahead of me
And opened up the door.
posted by Cindy St. Onge at 8:19 PM
2 Comments:
Pretty damn good poem, almost as if Poe had written "The Starling" instead!
I'll try to figure out how to use adipocere in a sentence this week. (Gotta figure out how to pronounce it, first.)
Wow, what a nice compliment. Thank you, Cynic.
Good luck working adipocere into conversation. You could work it into your lunchtime chat, or perhaps call in sick claiming you've saponified over night.
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