Aug
The Trophy Room
by Jon Tobias
I lay bear-traps for my memories
It’s watching the image of me
squeezing my head between
the couch cushion and
the pillow of your ribcage
The smell of your back
and softness of your belly
against the inside of my arm
That image is trying to chew its own
leg off
because I couldn’t coax it to stay
People come over to my house and say
“That is a nice photo of you and so-and-so”
And I say
“It took forever to pick the shrapnel out
before I could frame it”
I’m not in a lot of pictures
Nor do I have many pictures of you
But there is a pitfall made of blankets
somewhere
holding the night we first had sex
The truth is
My father doesn’t know my name most days
It runs in the family
Are these poems or
post it notes
for when I forget that I love you
Ask me about the matte finish heads
mounted on the walls
And I will tell you
Or I will make something up
These poems are bolas
and bear-pens
holding softness
that mumbles and sleeps
on my shoulder most nights
before I move it and go to my
side of the couch
In the back room
there is a cage full of kisses
lips all saying the names
you use when you are happy to see me
Beeboo
Babbeh
Handsome man
I am embarrassed to share this now
But later I won’t be
Jon, this is exceptional. The depth of field you use to bring everything into focus, as I trundle down the life of a hapless soul, is the anchor needed to take me to the end. Shameless, open, and honest are tools you use from your treasure chest of talent.
I’m asking about the matte finish heads the character wants me to ask about …
Thank Michael. I think that would come out in another long series of poems. Maybe for future contests. We will see.
The images you write are swirling in my head. Your words carried me through emotions that beneath the surface are intense. So well crafted Jon, so rich in the layers you create. Another side that you have revealed and I like it.
Thanks. I mainly write poetry and I was so happy to see a contest that specifically suggested it be entered. I am glad you approve.
Love this deep write, Jon. Wonderful lines, especially liked the cage full of kisses.
Thank you. I really like the way certain words sound together when trying to create images. They don’t always make sense, but I get lucky now and then.
This deconstructed view of memories and responses to their arrivals and departures. I am so honored by the growth of the writers here. Every time I read a post, I see growth in the regular writers and I am inspired to improve. This is another example of top-notch presentation.
I think once you start putting your work up against so much talent you have no choice but to improve. I am thankful for such diversity, and no doubt, that diversity will continue to grow along with us. I am glad you consider my work something that inspires you to be better too. Thank you.
When I was 7, I wished on a star that I could live that whole year over again. It was the first time I encountered the transience of time (though I wouldn’t have known it put it like that). Kisses in cages. You are going to make it as a poet <3
Thanks. Making it as a poet is my dream.
Jon, Jon, Jon – Wow!
The raw emotion and truth moved me to tears. All I can say is Excellent!
Did it? Wow. Thank you so much.
Memories can be like picnic baskets Boo Boo. How so Yogi? Sometimes they have goodies and other times a bear trap in the snout. At other times, you know they are out there, but Ranger Smith is on guard, so you never find out what you can’t imagine. I’m confused Yogi. Read the poem Boo Boo, read the poem. “A cage of kisses”? Yogi. What would Cindy say? That Jon is smarter than the average bear of course.
This is so tender and real, a wandering of the heart and mind down the path of mundane to the corner of truth and vulnerability. Gave the that lump-in-throat chill I always contract when reading the poignant truth.
Brave and lively:)