Morning Covers You

Morning Covers You

We extract
light, bleeding
it out one

diamond-shaped
hole after
another.

Finger the results.
Remediation
in form

or placement
to best
advantage?

At night
loneliness cradles
our bones.

You arrange our bodies to greater effect,
presuming lesser horrors
to be less.

A list emerges.
Refuting one,
accepting another.

Choices fixed.
Ecstasies of failure
purged.

Morning covers you
like a blue
shroud, so pale.

So cold
and bitter.

This originally appeared in Boston Poetry Magazine in April, 2014.

23 thoughts on “Morning Covers You”

Oh my goodness, Robert. It’s difficult to “like” this. It’s so painful, so filled with … Can’t find the word, it’s not “angst”–it’s more specific than that. But the poem is beautifully written. And your photo is especially creepy.

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robert okaji on October 28, 2015 at 2:19 pm said:

Thank you, Nadia. The inspiration, if you can call it that – it was probably more akin to a nudge – was Matthew Brady and his Civil War photos.

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- Nadia on October 28, 2015 at 2:37 pm said:
  
  That explains it. I’d call that more of a punch to the gut. And that explains why I couldn’t find the word. It’s horror plus angst. Is there one single word for that?
  
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- robert okaji on October 28, 2015 at 3:56 pm said:
  
  Horrangst?
  
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Beautiful poem, Robert.

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robert okaji on October 28, 2015 at 2:19 pm said:

Thanks, Luanne.

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Stunning.

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robert okaji on October 28, 2015 at 2:19 pm said:

Thank you.

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Hauntingly poignant.

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robert okaji on October 28, 2015 at 2:20 pm said:

Thank you.

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Verse for those of us who write … inspiring, delightful.

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robert okaji on October 29, 2015 at 4:59 am said:

Thanks very much.

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I like your precise delivery, no looseness, makes it easier to take complex ideas in.

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robert okaji on October 29, 2015 at 5:02 am said:

Thanks, Dave. I’ve found that one can be precise and still leave much space for the reader to wander (wonder?) about.

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Weep not for the rivers you live through
For with all sun there must be nourishing rain
Weep not that snow will freeze you
Because it reminds you the beauty of pain
Love is a perilous thing too
And it burns right through your heart
But weep not for the rivers you live through
Because it waters the flowers
And lights up the stars
A spark! A spark!
Is what I see
Amidst! The dark!
Like you wouldn’t believe
So come! Hail! Hark!
And join with me
In a quest for rivers to seek

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robert okaji on October 29, 2015 at 5:04 pm said:

Thank you, Laurie.

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- laurietopin on October 30, 2015 at 3:08 pm said:
  
  You are most certainly welcome
  
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I definitely felt the ‘mourning’ and aubaude/morning aspects with the poem, and your comment about Brady’s photos seals that. I also can’t help but see Picasso-Blue period-Stevens-Man with the Blue Guitar. It’s very unsettling and until I read your note, I presumed some creator or ruler was arranging the bodies, not something Brady had done to stage a shot. This is even more sublimed and melancholic knowing the impetus/background; as if a ghost is addressing Brady in the lines of this poem. Wow. Shivers, what a fantastic disquiet you’ve created, my friend.

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Leigh W. Smith on October 29, 2015 at 11:06 am said:

Plus, the ghost(s) looking at Brady in blue, him the cold & bitter one. The dispassionate one making art out of carnage. I can easily see why this was published, that tension, among others. It’s superb.

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