like ray carver's daughter

"you're grown-up, now, and lovely.
you're a beautiful drunk, daughter.
but you're a drunk."
-- raymond carver

when the world falls apart,
you settle like dirt
to the earth of your life.
what happens, dad,
when the world falls apart?

i drink like a fish, daddy,
and i know you were not
like yeats, you never wished
me plain. my eyes burn green
and dark, and nightly, i

pour myself into poisoned
waters, embracing snakes
wrapped round my waist
like a dress of sinuous death.
i don't want to wreck

this liver so tenderly built,
don't want to break
these bones cast
in the milk of love,
don't want to wring dry

the red river of blood
that has become my heart.
but i have, again, fallen apart.
my insides tear paper over and over
like a quiet rush of trees.

posted by ama at 2:22 PM 0 comments


kelly rae said…
this is beatiful and sad and beautiful. you are such a gifted writer. your writing blows me away every single time.
Kat Candler said…
i'm consistently amazed.
Anonymous said…

matt kane here. I seem to have lost your e-mail address. and then found this web dairy, so I thought, maybe you could write to my address and then I would have your address? do you still have my address? if not, this whole plan is just going to fall to pieces in front of our eyes. then we would just have pieces. and no one would be any better for it all. Well, that's not true. I feel better already, just reaching out to you and maybe you could feel better knowing that someone is reaching. Or maybe its all just the 1am wine talking, identifying with another drink across the ether. Its the wine that read your poem and is writing now, buts its me that wants you to write.
Stacy said…
I love to visit your poems. They are honest and truly beautiful.
Merry Holidays,
Cadra said…
I love you. I've been waiting a long time to hear from you...
J.Valentine said… insides tear paper over and over, like a quiet rush of trees"...I cannot stop reading those lines. They resonate within me somehow. You are an amazing poet. Thank you for touching a place in me that I didn't know I had until I read your words.
Gerard Beirne said…
Great poem. Carver would have been proud, upset.

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