I thought I'd write to Juliet
For she would understand
And when someone is already dead
They can no longer let you down.
Instead I find myself talking to you
As my oldest friend
Tell me how I can advise someone
That I don't even know to welcome death
Well I received a letter that
Is worth reporting
And though it may raise a cynical smile
It leaves a sinking feeling.
Like when a soldier in a story
Says to the sergeant,
"Have you seen my pride and joy?"
You know the rest
And it's no joke
Forgive me please, as I quote:
"This is a letter of thanks,
As I'm so bored here,
And I can't say where.
So I'm writing to people that I may never meet.
And I was thinking of something you said.
"I'm a female soldier
My name is Constance
I enlisted in the military
Needing funds for college
I'm twenty-three years old
And if I do get home alive
I imagine I may think again.
"I'm sleeping with my eyes open
For fear of attack
Your words are comfort,
They're the best things that I have
Apart from family pictures
And of course my gas mask.
"I don't know why I am writing to you"
~Macmanus, and perhaps a girl named Constance.
For she would understand
And when someone is already dead
They can no longer let you down.
Instead I find myself talking to you
As my oldest friend
Tell me how I can advise someone
That I don't even know to welcome death
Well I received a letter that
Is worth reporting
And though it may raise a cynical smile
It leaves a sinking feeling.
Like when a soldier in a story
Says to the sergeant,
"Have you seen my pride and joy?"
You know the rest
And it's no joke
Forgive me please, as I quote:
"This is a letter of thanks,
As I'm so bored here,
And I can't say where.
So I'm writing to people that I may never meet.
And I was thinking of something you said.
"I'm a female soldier
My name is Constance
I enlisted in the military
Needing funds for college
I'm twenty-three years old
And if I do get home alive
I imagine I may think again.
"I'm sleeping with my eyes open
For fear of attack
Your words are comfort,
They're the best things that I have
Apart from family pictures
And of course my gas mask.
"I don't know why I am writing to you"
~Macmanus, and perhaps a girl named Constance.
posted by dyingember at 3:20 AM
2 Comments:
The Curse
by Josh Ritter
He opens his eyes
Falls in love at first sight
With the girl in the doorway.
What beautiful lines
How full of life
After thousands of years, what a face to wake up to.
He holds back a sigh
As she touches his arm;
She dusts off the bed where 'til now he's been sleeping,
Under mires of stone
The dry fig of his heart
Under scarab and bone
Starts back to its beating...
She carries him home
In a beautiful boat,
He watches the sea from a porthole in stowage
He can hear all she says
As she sits by his bed
And one day his lips answered her
In her own language.
The days quickly pass
He loves making her laugh
The first time he moves it's her hair that he touches
She asks "Are you cursed?"
He says "I think that I'm cured,"
Then he talks of the Nile and the girls in bull rushes...
In New York he is laid
In a glass covered case
He pretends he is dead
People crowd round to see him
But each night she comes round
And the two wander down the halls of the tomb
That she calls a museum
Often he stops to rest
But then less and less
Then it's her that looks tired
Staying up asking questions
He learns how to read
From the papers that she is writing about him
Then he makes corrections
It's his face on her book
More and more come to look
Families from Iowa
Upper West-Siders
Then one day it's too much
He decides to get up
And as chaos ensues he walks outside to find her
She is using a cane
And her face looks too pale
But she's happy to see him
As they walk he supports her
She asks "Are you cursed?"
But his answer is obscured
In a sandstorm of flashbulbs and rowdy reporters...
Such reanimation
The two tour the nation
He gets out of limos
He meets other women
He speaks of her fondly
Their nights in the museum
But she's just one more rag now he's dragging behind him
She stops going out
She just lies there in bed
In hotels in whatever towns they are speaking
Then her face starts to set
And her hands start to fold
Then one day the dry fig of her heart stops its beating...
Long ago on the ship
She asked, "Why pyramids?"
He said "Think of them as an immense invitation."
She asked "Are you cursed?"
He said "I think that I'm cured."
Then he kissed her and hoped
That she'd forget that question...
From: So Runs the World Away
This is awesome. Thank you.
Post a Comment
<< Home