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"Tango
is a mysterious track, one I don't yet completely understand.
I
like it most for the for the ending quote, which still haunts me as if
that voice were right in the room."
Ian
Ferrier
listen
to an audio
extract, and/or read the poem:
Tango
The baby
cries, the day begins again.
This the precession, the lives she’s thrown away
like dolls had those. The bonds all cut
The wings of angels falling in a storm,
one gesture in a winter month of storms.
And she
is treading in a pool of the half darkness
in the blue of photons flooding
through the insubstantial archway
of a door and then a hallway,
past the ghostlike statues
and the gods and photographs
jangling the keys to passion and forgiveness
as the chains on snowplows
ring up the snow-filled boulevard
like sleighbells on a winter night –
Out above
the roofs and altartops
where she was wayward saint
of pillows and of skylines before dawn
Along
the snow-filled avenues
of lovers she held too long.
Here the hundred mortals falling like paper angels
drifting and broken with the pain
of being god for a whole ten seconds.
There
the conqueror of men she almost loved
As naked she wrestled down
all the remembered angels of isolation,
the days her thighs were weapons
and adultery was all that she could think about
or understand or say.
And so
she has lain down in his arms again,
And in that second when he slips between her legs
her heart’s already flying like a swallow from her throat
and she is living and dying in the heat of a single evening
treading along the skyline of the wooden floor,
and through the doorway,
down the hallway and halfway to the bedroom calling
“I’ll
be right there baby.... Love I’ll be right there.”
read
more in…
Exploding Head Man
Text
© Planète rebelle, Wired on Words and Ian Ferrier
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