Quotidian
Quotidian
I am asked to write about love
as an everyday object,
and I think of our down blanket, which we use all year
in the mountains, though you grow warm about as soon as you take root
while everything human in me seems cut off
from its grounding–I’m talking feet but also
metaphorically–
And I think too (still waxing symbolic) of our lack
of bathing suits, an aspect of the isolated streams
in our mountains, the way that lack allows us
to really feel flow’s
caress and grip;
and okay, it’s a little precious
to talk of love in terms of down blankets and lacks
of bathing suits–even though I could go on at length
about loft and stretch–
because honestly it would probably be a lot more interesting if I’d just move
to the bodies beneath
the down blanket, the lack
of bathing suit–
to the lavender caverns of muscle (yours),
the pales of lugubrious flesh (yes, those would be
mine)
and whatever it is curves as gently
as a feather
when it rests,
what keeps afloat a head (let’s call it
your shoulder),
what blankets a shoulder
(let’s call it
my head),
that what
that touches both our sides
that warms,
that bares–
***********************
Very drafty poem for April and Sanaa’s prompt on Real Toads to write of love in the context of an everyday object. Pic is mine–it wasn’t really drawn for this poem, but I like it! All rights reserved.
Explore posts in the same categories: drawings, poetry, UncategorizedTags: April 2017 poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, love as a down blanket lack of bathing suit poem, Love Poem, manicddaily, quotidian love poem
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ManicDDaily 
April 19, 2017 at 11:24 pm
I like that love has drawn you out, K, with your characteristic keen observations and gentle asides, drawing wide the curtain (blanket?) and letting us peek into your world ~
April 19, 2017 at 11:33 pm
Nicely written, K. I loved the object of love you chose, your down blanket. Back to childhood is reminded me here, dragging around the little green blanket (shouldn’t have said that, we have a thing about carrying our little green blanket.)
..
April 20, 2017 at 3:24 am
Absolutely lovely, and I like all the details … but ‘root’ startled me considerably. (One of those cases where we only think we speak the same language?) You could even have meant it as an Aussie would, given what else you say, only the rest is said with more delicacy and nuance. So I am wondering – what DID you mean?
April 20, 2017 at 7:48 am
Hi Rosemary, I worried about that too–I meant to stay put really, rooted, but I was conscious of other possible meanings, and I thought they added some kind of humorous layer, but think that they are distracting, so I’ve changed it to “take root” – thanks! k.
April 20, 2017 at 3:44 am
last visit on the love trail for me this morning. What a beautiful place to land. This has layers of deft truths wrapped up within. A delicious read.
April 20, 2017 at 6:22 am
My heart swells in response to your words, hoping my husband and I also experience such beauty in seemingly ordinary moments.
April 20, 2017 at 7:50 am
Ha. Thanks so much, Rose. k.
April 20, 2017 at 7:50 am
ps – I am sure you do! k.
April 20, 2017 at 8:29 am
Ooh this is soo beautiful! I love the idea of “down blanket” as a symbol of love and comfort. Such a tender and lovely response to the prompt, thank you so much for participating, K ❤️
Lots of love,
Sanaa
April 20, 2017 at 9:49 am
I smiled the moment I read he gets warmer under the blanked before she does. It’s such a perfect thing to say for this prompt, since it happens so often.
April 20, 2017 at 9:49 am
And I seem unable to spell blanket. *sigh*
April 20, 2017 at 9:58 am
Ha! Me neither!
April 20, 2017 at 10:00 am
😀
April 20, 2017 at 10:57 am
This is a poem to sink into. It has such a natural flow of thought, encompassing so much more than the words say.
April 20, 2017 at 8:07 pm
and whatever it is curves as gently
as a feather
when it rests,
what keeps afloat a head (let’s call it
your shoulder),
what blankets a shoulder
(let’s call it
my head),
My, one gets all the more so real with feelings expressed here. It appears one may readily get disoriented where love has a hand, in it. Thanks for the memory K
Hank