The man who dripped digitalis

He could charm the poison out of fox gloves

and used his skills to quicken my heart.

I wondered what he fed on: frayed liturgies

and the secret dreams of women,

toxic spores translated into messages

of lust, slivers of the dank March sky

rolled up like pickled herring.

I never knew. He always skimmed me,

left me hooked on some potent pollen,

some sacrificial line,

some cold gap between sentiments.

His fingers were like cathedrals,

too big to untie my delicate knots

yet he knew me inside out like he knew

the names of flowers and bats and clouds,

like he knew how to throw daggers

without skewering the soul.

He could sniff out creeping wolf-men

and crack their backbones with a lazy wink,

worked my fingers to his throat

like a snake charmer,

made me slide and arch with his singing breath.

After we'd loved and I was doped up on glow

he laid wet silver on my eyelids

believing it would bring him luck.


◄ I am lifting the piano with one hand

Audio recordings of me reading my poems for 'Poetcasting' ►

Comments

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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 15th Dec 2009 10:05

I really like this poem, it just flows so beautifully, very resonant for me personally too.
Rachel
x

<Deleted User> (7073)

Fri 11th Dec 2009 20:55

'One Poison Drives Out Another ' Strong imagery. I enjoyed your choice of metaphor's and the neat twist at the end. Be yea afraid of innocent looking Foxgloves ;-)
TC X

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Andy N

Thu 10th Dec 2009 13:33

has a great beat to it, Gaia - gotta say.. nice one x

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Ann Foxglove

Thu 10th Dec 2009 06:51

This is one sexy poem! Brill, as always. xx

<Deleted User> (7164)

Wed 9th Dec 2009 22:15

Love this poem.
Foxgloves are a nuisance when they decide to invade your garden and yet supposedly ward off negative earthly and nature spirits.
Great analogy used here.

Starlight.x

Deborah Jordan

Wed 9th Dec 2009 21:40

oooh, i really like this Gaia. It flows like melted honey but i taste the bittersweetness of it. I think I knew him once.. debz x

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