The Carpenter, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)
Ian interrupted me
A minor inconvenience
Considering what he flattened
Like a steam roller
But he did force me
To go on another date
With you, laying on
Your crushed clovers
Your special language
And that garage
Full of tools, tools
You didn’t use
Blades, saws, things electric
Why not the bathtub?
Or high bridge, or traffic?
Or swim in heavy cloths?
Some carpenter you are
What carpenter uses park?
That medicine cabinet
Is mad at you
It had a date
With your liquor cabinet
You had your mind set
No sconces, candle holders
No cutting boards
Your wrists, were longing
You gave them not
The attention they wanted
But you, betrayed the carpenter
Who was not interested in building
You were going to be his apprentice
But you didn’t need one, did you?
You improvised, with four wheels
That never moved, with shut door
Smog that would make Los Angeles jealous
And it gave you that slumber, you longed for
Who was it? Who discovered you
Limp, ivory or blue, or both?
A China doll, motionless, pristine
Obscene. Were your eyes open?
The carpenter never used that
As a tool for your escape,
You broke the rules.
(end)
Hurricane Ian hit my home. I made it through, but the power went out so I used the time to read and write, and came up with this poem about the suicide of Anne Sexton. She unfortunately did the car in the garage thing.
This is a poem about the suicide of Anne Sexton. The “clover” reference is about a poem she is laying in a yard looking up at the nighttime sky. That represents her positive creativity to me, in that poem. But contrasted with one of her most famous poems “Wanting To Die” in which she describes the suicidal as a “carpenter” only interested in the tool to do the job, and not interested in building anything.
Once again, if you are feeling suicidal, talk to someone, a trusted friend or family member, or call a suicide hotline, or 9-1-1. You really are not alone. There are people willing to listen, and want to help.