On day 9 of #APoemADayInMay I am trying to put words on what it feels like to dress up in Paris.
Spoiler: Emily would have been eaten alive.
Image description: on a blue tile, a poem by Jane Symonds reads:
“You belong to the city now. A curiosity
to be studied, commented, critiqued,
touched? A public work. A thing
of light and heartache but still
a thing. Grandmothers telegraph letters
of complaint. Men hand the comment section
right to you. Click follow in person.
You keep your eyes busy and your ears
full of silence. Regret, for a moment, your sparkle.”
On day 8 of #APoemADayInMay we are celebrating the most sacred of rituals: Women Doing Stuff Together.
Image description: over an image of a candle, a poem by Jane Symonds called “How a church is built” reads:
“With women’s hands. Outdoor chairs brought
inside to make room, the table’s wings spread.
Sit down, I can budge up. We have twice
the carrots we need. The sacrament
is not the wine but the pouring. Scissors passed
from palm to palm. Here’s how, here’s how.
Let me see? If you want it it’s yours. We kneel only
to pick up what is dropped. The gospel
is not the story but the telling. Shuffled hymns
sung off-key. Try this, try this. Compliments are
blessings in weekday hats. The truth is, together
we make this place holy.”
We’re already a week in to #APoemADayInMay and we are winning all our arguments a day too late.
Image description: over an image of a bathroom mirror, a poem by Jane Symonds called “ex-post rehearsal” reads:
“I told my mirror about you and she said
you were wrong, and that you should have
listened to me, and that you need
to go to therapy, and also
she thinks my eyes are really pretty
when I’m mad.”
Day 4 of #APoemADayInMay is full of worries.
Image description: on a white background, a poem by Jane Symonds called “don’t worry about it” reads:
“Anxiety tears the No Trespassing sign off my dreams.
Ushers in yesterday and screams: he’s got a knife.
After, in the morning, what’s left of me
runs desperate hands over conversation fossils.
But what was the dinosaur thinking?
There is no forecast for the North Sea days.
No warning and no alternate crossing.
No land in sight but all of it on fire.
Anxiety is the minder who murmurs in my ear: don’t
look now but Doom is coming. An haute-couture Hum.
A funeral procession on call, a coroner standing by.
Just here to help.”
A piece of trivia for day 2 of #APoemADayInMay: at midday on the first Wednesday (or the next day, in case of a public holiday) of every month, in every city in France, the emergency warning siren howls its test howl. And I dutifully envision disaster.
Image description: over an image of the sky above a domed building in Paris, a poem by Jane Symonds reads:
“once a month they still test the air raid sirens:
an antique hammer to the city’s knee.
a draft catastrophe.
a call to prayer?
a model citizen, I am never
not alarmed. worry it is not a warning
but a summons: the complacent peace
between a collie howling
and the wolves replying.”
We’re kicking off #APoemADayInMay 2024 with a love letter to the people who hold us, just as we are.
Thank you for being here. I love this funny little annual ritual and I’m so excited to do it all again.
Image description: over an image of a path through a park, a short poem by Jane Symonds called “safe hands” reads:
“we need to be fearlessly happy, you say. no more
self-sabotage. the river rushes green
in the direction you came from and the phoenix cathedral
pairs new with old for spring. while you’re here
I only ever breathe out.
it is so easy to tell you what scares me because there is nothing
I could hand to you that you would not
hold gently.”