Midlife Cravings

2015/10/14


So that was our “date”?

Flirting me out of my skirt?

You squirt — now I’m late.

© 2015 Chantale Rêve

All Rights Reserved

Advertisements

Chased

2015/10/12


Trapped like an ice cube,

I resist melting ’round you,

Unfazed by your fizz.

© 2015 Chantale Rêve

All Rights Reserved


Stood-up on a rain date in New York City,

I dodged the sunset and hopped a “D” train home,

Where, brimming with blissful solitude,

I urged the Muse to purge me of ulcerous self-pity –

Sonic grooves by Alanis setting the mood

For repentant limerent spectres to roam.

small piano keys clip art

Then ferocious catcalls in the corridor

Ripped me from an entranced state,

Echoed like rutting felines in the alleyway,

Too vulgar and sexual to be ignored,

Intruded on an impromptu mini-holiday —

My solitary, literary weekend escape.

small piano keys clip art

Through a cracked peephole I dared,
Despite my paralyzing, unutterable fear,

To observe lewd gestures of the same

Vicious thugs whose vile words and three-pronged stare

Five years back had degraded me past naked shame,

Had left me drowning in blood and putrid smears.

small piano keys clip art

In an update unbeknownst to me,

Buried beneath grim news headlines,

The terrifying trinity was on parole.

A mockery of justice permitted them to be free

But imprisoned my courage behind bars of old,

For which the keys were impossible to find.

small piano keys clip art

How I hated waiting alone for the police,

My pulse throbbing at a blistering pace!

Flashbacks transported me to that horrible Saturday,

When three men morphed into a six-legged beast,

Ravaging a blithe spirit until hope in Man rotted away

And her peace and joy vanished without a trace.

small piano keys clip art  small piano keys clip art   small piano keys clip art

© 2012-2015 Chantale Rêve

All Rights Reserved

Cul-de-Sac

2014/10/14


And to clear things up –

Before the lump in my throat

Grows any larger,

Blocking my airway,

Causing a stroke –

small broken heart clip art

I just want to say

I intended no harm

By shaking off sorrow

At her grim memorial,

But she was my mother

Safely dead in sealed casket.

Could she spy on my sadness?

small broken heart clip art

If I offended frail sensibilities

By forgoing self-pity,

Commiseration in Chanel black,

By wearing neon-bright colors,

My pretense of composure

Framed in lacy frivolity,

I apologize belatedly

For not appeasing my elders.

small broken heart clip art

But, really, all these decades later,

I wonder if they realize

Now that I was only a child,

Heart heavy with new burden,

Tears like a clown’s disguised

As popcorn-puffed entertainment.

small broken heart clip art

Once home, the circus over,

I put away my makeup,

Slamming the cabinet,

Shattering its mirror

And caught my pained expression.

In shards of glass below me

Distorting my reflection.

I imagined jagged razors

Ripping me from numbness,

Adding to the tally

Of coffin-tight secrets –

A cul-de-sac of repression.

small broken heart clip art

Growing up sheltered,

Suburban normalcy

Couldn’t prepare for the bomb

Dropped on our perfect family.

Terminal sentence looming,

Queen of the house arrested,

We were guilty by association

Like reeking of secondhand smoke

From a funny cigarette

That might have eased suffering

From aggressive breast cancer.

small broken heart clip art

I was fifteen years young,

Embarrassed by death,

Bereft of coping skills,

Complicit in the depth

Of a widower’s grief,

A father come undone.

Where did my youth go?

small broken heart clip art

Overnight made a woman,

I sought divine mercy

For a pass/fail grade,

In a crash course in courage,

A detour on the road

To self-discovery.

small broken heart clip art

I screamed!

That’s all I had to do.

And then,

I caught my breath

Effortlessly,

Like trapeze artists

Tumbling in the air

High above a sturdy net,

Pretending to defy

Certain death.

small broken heart clip art small broken heart clip art small broken heart clip art


Copyright © 2010 By Chantale Reve


 

 

I must confess

That even if I could

Halve, quarter, eighth or sixteenth

My flesh, bone and blood,

I would not.

 

 

I am raw oxtail teased with spices,

Tossed in with tomato and diced veggies.

My meat has absorbed une mélange de saveurs

That makes lovers salivate over my succotash

Sneak under the cover to lick the pot.

 

 

Despite an atavistic hot mess

From mostly forced miscegenation

Forged through economics, lust, hate and greed

Sprouted from seeds over beaucoup de générations,

Pride I’ve still got.

 

 

I forgive ruthless

Statements that, unlike my hair,

I’m an “oreo,” rootless beneath the skin —

For every moment and in pure love

I live and breathe Divinity and Blackness.

 

 

Poem:  “D.N.A. (deliciously naked authenticity)”  © 2014 Chantale Rêve   All Rights Reserved