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The Romance of (Miss Crumple's) MemoryMar 19 '04 (Updated Nov 13 '05) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line This is third in a quartet to poems about the enigmatic influence of Miss Crumple. It is the push/pull of attraction. It is the yin/yang of (my) memory & existence.
The theme of this poem is Memory. It is the Memory of essence and the essence of Memory - and the taming thereof. It is about the twisted blood and guts of what I can conjure of you, Miss Crumple. (because, this is all I have left) The night after...the day after Valentine’s (when we slept together) in my big brass bed I laid on "your" side.......... To See if I could (still) Feel you there. To See if any.................. trace elements (of you) might be left. I wanted to See, if there was any Memory (somehow) of you imprinted on the sheets. I wanted to See If I could breathe you in, to sustain my being (since your breath is my breath) I wanted to See (and Feel) your Memory lying there - as if it were a thing I could Touch. I wanted to Touch any particles of skin you might have left behind. I wanted to capture your Residue: The Residue of your being. In Ladakh......there is no word for want – only Need. Therefore, I am Ladakhi. And so, I Needed to Feel the impression you had made, as you slept beside me: the shape of your weight. I Needed to Feel Your essence – I Needed to See and Touch the stains we had made together. I Needed............... to Remember the Taste and sweetness of your tongue & saliva. I Needed to Feel the heat (again) and Remember the riveting Smell of your sweat. I Needed to Hear if......... (per chance) the pillows had somehow recorded your cries of ecstasy. I Needed to Feel the calm (after the sturm und drang) But, you were not there! Only your immutable Memory remained - Miss Crumple. (it was enough for Proust!) I NEED to name.............. (your memory's) powerful influence over me. The evening, after the day, after Valentine’s I started Return – in hope you would See how much I cared (for you). I hoped to woo you. I Needed to tell you - as I had In Ode – how much my synapse required your immediate scrutiny. Instead (after reading it) you called me............ to express your fury at being named -- by my describing (the essence) of your tiny avian tattoo, (which I gladly excised) Secondary to your fury, I was overwhelmed by my distress………that I had lost your trust, as you said...you Felt betrayed (By the very instrument) I had meant to express my intense desire for you. How very ironic (I thought) that my entree, was actually your exit. That my words of woo -- were your way of letting me go. My work that week was arduous - beyond compare! And, my guts were knotted, like never before. I truly Needed to make amends, But my calls you refused. (No succor did I receive) And then, I further revised Return (to show the binding) and (you said) it rendered you speechless! What did that - I wondered? I supposed it could suggest either your awe (of its authenticity) or your being appalled by its obvious revelation of You and Me. I did not know which it was -- despite my fervent requests for clarity. (I really Needed to know!) Finally, you cryptically commented............... that no offense was taken. And yet, that spoke volumes to me. For, it told me, I was no longer a pariah, in your eyes! I wrote a relentless opus (in reply) and gave two chances - the record (for you) to correct. And then -- I begged for your silence (as well as) your tacit approval (of my view) that...you were rendered speechless – and inexorably moved (by your own Memories) of being stirred (and not shaken) by................my wanton soul. I Needed (badly) to know it was the power of your Memory (of being both transported and bound) by our experience together, which rendered you unable to reply -- and this you have now confirmed. The Memory of Miss Crumple’s essence. The essence of Miss Crumple’s Memory. The Feel of your Memory and.............. The Memory of your Feel. The Taste of your body, And the body of your Taste. The scars of your Memory, And the Memory of my scars. The viscera of my Memory, The Memory of your viscera. The Sense of your Memory, The Memory of your Sense (and your Sensibility) In Ladakh – there is no want. Only Need. The Memory of My Need. And the Need of Your Memory - to be tamed! It is (also) the Memory of catharsis, And the catharsis of (my) Memory. It is my Need to render - My Need to record - My Need to tame - My Need to (later) explore - The mixed messages (of Miss Crumple) It is the Need to purge myself of Miss Crumple's enigmatic influence - by first naming (and then taming) it! Despite it's appearance, no torchsong is this! Instead, it is a requiem for the residue & influence of Miss Crumple's indelible Memory, for which now the bell (hopefully) tolls!  |
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