A-Z Challenge, G is for Galloping Godiva

This is an UNfinished painting. Brand new. I cannot finish a real painting in less than a day, especially when I'm sick in bed a good part of the day!

And for national Poetry month:

Geraldine’s Word Collection

The new English teacher gives Geraldine a pass and tells her, “look for words.”

Geraldine finds the word “memory” on the library door and copies it

into her word book. “Memory,” the librarian reminds her, pointing

to her own head, “is what you remember inside, what happened before.

Yesterday, earlier today.” Geraldine sits down at a library table and looks

inside her memory. She finds Ricky there, and Aldy. She looks at Ricky

and writes down the word “handsome” and the word “love.” The librarian

helps her spell the words. When she remembers Ricky’s kisses, they

writes the word “warm.” She remembers him naked, but she doesn’t tell

the librarian. Instead, they write the word “lonely.” Loneliness

happened earlier today. Closeness happened yesterday, or some time

earlier. Aldy happened, the most beautiful baby in the world. Love

isn’t a big enough word. They took Aldy away, put Geraldine in a new school,

where she couldn’t see Ricky. A stupid school. A school where Geraldine stuffs

envelopes and puts tiny measures of spices in little bags and bottles.

And gets paid. Fold it this way, not that way. Fill the measure to the top,

but not overflowing. All the girls in one room, all the boys in another.

No Ricky, no Aldy anywhere. Work days and education days. More work

days than school days. Long days, no sunshine. Big pink lights that hum.

No cafetorium, no school dances. She writes down the word “hug.”

She thinks about the word breast, Ricky kissing her, Aldy nursing.

But she says the word, “family” and thinks of her parents, her sister.

“Memory,” Geraldine repeats. The librarian reminds her about the dictionary,

and they look up memory. On the way to memory, they encounter

the word “melancholy.” The librarian helps her write down the words:

“sad, depressed, gloomy.” The librarian writes the words and Geraldine

copies them carefully. In art class, her teacher repeats the words

and Geraldine picks a color for each word, paints a picture in sepia,

indigo, burnt sienna with bits of red, yellow and blue. The art teacher sees

a small flock of tropical birds in a dusky jungle. Geraldine sees dark days

and small bright dreams, visitations of memory, Ricky and Aldy.

Mary Stebbins Taitt,

groan (persephone speaks to hades)

you plunge between my legs

and I look up

where spiders stretch their webs

and twirl their moths

and fifty bats hang by their nails

and granite shines

along foreboding cracks

as wisps of fire

reflect. you gasp and groan

and come and I

release a sigh, relieved

that you are done

so I, with less

impediment, can watch

each bat inhale

and spiders gobble flies.

but as you crush my breasts

in sleep, your weight

distresses me, as does

the slime that leaks, now cold,

between my thighs.