A Goddess in Purple Rain
by
Cynthia Atkins
Behind glass, a lady is lit-up
inside the laundromat.
She’s folding sheets, pink curlers
of baroque
in her hair, singing and creasing
a t-shirt with sequins. Her arms
and hips stretch out
to a body of air—the room filling
with sound.
And I am humming inside her—inside
her body,
burning for shelter from the abyss
of my alone. Rounding
a corner
in a car, I am passing by, hearing
“Purple Rain”
on the radio—I can almost taste
the sweat on the brow of the boy I
danced with
so many years ago—It tasted like
dry toast
or
the brunt of hurting.
Listen to the sky imploring, Come as you are—
Alone to the last concert, to light matches
in a spell-bound crowd—Remorse of loving
a rock star we can never own. And now the lady
in the laundromat is swaying, and I
am swaying
with her from my car—Maybe she is
dancing with her son,
going off to boot camp, or the ends
of the earth.
I’m thinking of my son
at three,
standing on the kitchen table in a
wet diaper,
banging music from a wooden spoon.
This is that concert, where you lit
a match
to your own bag of wounds. You felt like
you belonged, a
citizen.
Alive as a hackle of girls at the
May prom.
Look at the moon, hanging like a
shoe
to throw its heel of light
on the page or an empty field.
We are all in the body of this
night, cogent as a judge
who loves the law. The lady in the laundromat
carries the load to her car, unpins
her hair.
I don’t want to be alone
tonight. The stars allow
me to follow her— we are passing
the town,
rooftops are hunkering down to sing
lullabies to the young, and the
night
is a stranger touching my sleeve.
* * * * *
"A Goddess in Purple
Rain" was first published in Hermeneutic Chaos.
Cynthia Atkins is the
author of Psyche’s Weathers and In the Event of Full Disclosure,
and the forthcoming collection “Still-Life With God.” Her poems have
appeared in numerous journals, including, Alaska Quarterly Review,
Apogee, BOMB, Cleaver Magazine, Cultural Weekly, Denver Quarterly, Diode,
Florida Review, Flock Lit, Green Mountains Review, Le Zaporogue, Los
Angeles Review, North American Review, Rust + Moth, Sweet: A Literary
Confection, SWWIM, Tampa Review, and Verse Daily, and have been nominated
for Pushcart and Best of The Net. Formerly, Atkins worked as the assistant
director of the Poetry Society of America. She has received fellowships from
Bread Loaf and the VCCA. Atkins teaches creative writing at Blue Ridge
Community College and lives on the Maury River of Rockbridge County VA with her
family. More on @catkinspoet www.cynthiaatkins.com, https://www.facebook.com/Cynthia-Atkins-190490067665164/-
At this moment I cannot think of another poem that has moved and amazed me as astoundingly as this. I could try to explain more articulately its effect on me, but I'm afraid words would fail me, and I'd rather just bask in sheer wonderment. This poem is like a flower opening up inside me. It's still opening...
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely lovely!!!!!
ReplyDeleteastonishingly rich, with so many lines to savor! thanks for introducing us to Cynthia's wondrous writing.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem.
ReplyDelete"the night is a stranger touching my sleeve." Gorgeous!
ReplyDelete