For Crying, Out Loud
by anne cunningham
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
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For Crying, Fucking Out Loud *
Perhaps it was true , we needed the road trip,
a break, a change in the scenery of loss but
the wound was still fresh, open and gaping,
and so fucking you that night after shopping,
and dinner, and a day's great fun, laughing even,
after all of that, fucking felt like crying, dying,
thick with the grief, unable with you to speak of it,
at least not right there, not right then, and seemingly
there never really was going to be a better time,
and I best be getting up and over it, push it out,
gnashing teeth, biting your skin, trailing my hair,
like a snake down your chest, teasing and hot,
a trickle of cold sweat running down my insides,
intent on mouthing you below, my upper lip split,
and I tasted my own blood, and wondered why
you couldn't sense, I was bleeding out, draining,
needed a soft shoulder, a place to land, comfort,
a hold to catch my tears, my grievous emotions,
and we could have done this anywhere, it didn't
merit an out of town trip, a cross country trek,
so my brain could not wrap my heart around this,
but rising to sit, holding your fit, I molded soft
to surround you when I most needed surrounding,
and looking at your face, your eyes pinched tight,
mouth skewed, grimacing, ready to scream my name,
I wondered why this exercise, since I had clearly
gone off, crept out of sight and left your mind,
and I couldn't hear you having gone so very far off,
having vacated the fucking building, the fucking bed,
turned inside myself, driving you deep in me, in spite,
every thrust a wish, a want, a need in reverse, a desire
to be held, wanting some space to let it go, but instead
rocking on you, wishing you could roll this punch with me,
just be there solid, patient, holding my place for a time,
while I cried, raged, asked why, angered, denied, accepted,
but instead I bucked up to it, fucking your face right off,
in an effort to erase your lips before you uttered my name,
and some garbled funk, all that junk, nothing I could use,
my brain posturing, back arching, gut rejecting it, heaving,
heart screaming for some quiet time, safe haven, a vacation,
soft murmurs, chants even, to encourage necessary tears,
and right as I am going off, losing it, those naughty kids
came running down the corridor, screaming loud, laughing,
snapping towels and making so much beautiful noise,
and I questioned, where are their parents right now,
for crying out loud, who is in charge of this Bate's place,
for fucking out loud, and I rained down hard, you in me,
falling free finally, lying next to you, both of us glistening,
and I figured, that flood of emotion, that was my tears.
"I just feel like I want sex. I want to feel something else apart from misery and guilt. It's either that or I go home and put my hand on the fire." -Laura in the book High Fidelilty (by Nick Hornby), the night of her father's funeral.
*author's note: contains liberal use of the f'word, in one very long, run-on sentence, but this poem really was about "fucking" and not about "making love," as there is a pretty subtle difference, and grief is like a hemorrhage; you really can't break it up into sentences or paragraphs! -a
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|Reviewed by Ray Fister (Reader)
|As always, I love your work.....long time.|
|Reviewed by Bob Hicks
|I think I'm going to burn all my files and become a truck driver; the bar has been set too high.|
|Reviewed by M.Bennett Hooper (Mikii)
|Cheez this is really what I needed another "F"ing" good poet to track. Wow!|
|Reviewed by Candy T (Reader)
and quite something. really.
|Reviewed by Dale Clark
|Really powerful and it basically
leaves me feeling a bit stunned.
You've write with such emotion.
|Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
|I need stronger glass's, the way you paint so vividly on the mind in such a powerful way is most unique, really hit hammer on head here..|
|Reviewed by Dan Summerfield (Reader)
I must agree with the others that this is very, very powerful stuff.
But I also must admit it is so hot that when I finished I screamed out my own name.
|Reviewed by E Detetcheverrie
|I want it again!|
|Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie
|Excellently powerful and so expressive of the difference, loved this, just held me to the very end,
|Reviewed by Gary Gebert
|I don't think I've read anything as powerful as this. If this isn't fiction, the truth you've expressed is incredibly bold. Only the truly blind would not be able to feel it. It almost makes me feel hurt by it. No, I take that back. I do, somehow. You've created a real work of art(in my mind anyway). It humbles me.
Keep us reading Anne.
|Reviewed by Floria Kelderhouse (Reader)
|Very powerful and rivetting...cant stop once you start reading it. You really expressed yourself in this one Anne...great work..floria|
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|I must admit the title drew me into this poem. Glad I read it. Extremely well done, Anne.|
|Reviewed by ya mama (Reader)
|Reviewed by Jane Rodway
|This is brilliant, so unique, which is such a breath of fresh air. So well-written- I am a huge Nick Hornby fan, loved this:)|
|Reviewed by Leysa Lowery
|Incredible, powerful. In fact, I'm having trouble finding the words to express my awe.|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Powerfully emotive and replete with deeper meaning. Thank you for this offering, Anne. Love and peace to you. Regis|
|Reviewed by Patricia Gomes
|I'm looking at such little words, but I "hear" the scream as if it were all caps and HUGE letters. There is fire here . . . intense heat!
I'm so impressed with you, I could holler myself. Great writing, sweetie.
|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|angry and raw in emotion; very well put, and very well expressed!~
like what karla says (and it's very true): "people make love, animals f***".
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :(
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
i felt the raw anger in this write--there is a vast difference in f*cking and making love
people make love--animals f*ck
brava, excellent write! *applause*
(((HUGS))) and love,
|Reviewed by No Longer Member (Reader)
|for your versatility I respect your work greatly. you reach your points from all different angles and styles|