<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Horror Article by Relf

 


On Resurrecting Dead Poems


by Terrie Leigh Relf

 


I was looking through some poem files that I’d begun, but hadn’t “finished”. I often call this my “haven’t-sent-out-to-be-possibly-accepted-or-rejected-yet” file. Since many publications only accept submissions “the old-fashioned way” (remember envelopes and stamps?), I’ve been trying to get back in the habit.

What did I find but a document graveyard filled with letters and poems to several publications! I slowly pried open the coffin lid for Dreams of Decadence, one of DNA’s lovely glossies. Whew--did I ever get a whiff! While most were in the final stages of decomposition, there were two that seemed able to withstand reanimation.

So, I dug them up.

They reeked so bad that my eyes teared, but poetry is not for the fainthearted, so I sank my teeth into them.

You, too, can be a grave-robber. Read on!

Poem One:

I've started seeing a therapist

she says I'm depressed
perhaps I should make
new friends
join a gym
get out more during the day

sunshine is good for you
she says
vitamin D
you should take more iron
she adds
looking at my pale skin
the bruises

you aren't in an abusive relationship
are you?

no I answer with a sigh
reluctant to confess that
I abuse myself
weary of incessant hunger
rarely sated

perhaps you need a new job
a new apartment
a new outfit?
they're having a sale at Macy's

she smiles
strokes the length of
a gypsy blouse sleeve
only $20
regularly $53

she pauses
waits politely
for a response

we both look at the clock

times up
I think we had a good session
she says

as if time
has any meaning
when you're
dead

Poem Two:

it's not easy being a vampire

like abnormal cells in a Petri dish
we've evolved
it could be worse
Imagine zygotes
flash-frozen
at least I'm not a zombie
my ex-boyfriend was vegan and
when he turned into a zombie it was like
he wasted away to nothing
it was so sad how he’d follow me
to the local cemetery
just hang out
dig for grubs like some skunk
under the bathtub in the winter


After reading and rereading these (and wondering if I should bury them deeper next time, or better yet, cement them into a mausoleum), I decided there was a theme connecting the two.

Vampires with personal problems, AKA “issues.” In the first poem, our vamp is depressed, and so she’s seeing a therapist who obviously doesn’t understand the depth of her boredom and despair. The therapist’s attempts to perk her up via all kinds of human-esque activities are superficial to this vamp. She is bored, too, I would think.

The vamp in the second poem isn’t all that thrilled with her life—or is she? She counts her blessings (e.g., at least she’s not a flash-frozen zygote or a zombie). Furthermore, she acknowledges that her kind has “evolved;” just what that may mean we don’t know. But there is a link to “abnormal cells in a Petri dish,” which signifies cell growth gone awry.

So here I am with two nightcrawlers who may or may not be the same female vampire telling different stories to different people. It would be safe to say that in the first one, her audience is human and uninformed. Or perhaps it’s an internal monologue. Or perhaps she’s hanging at el café de la noche with her vampire friends, sighing over a glass of Private Reserve with the resident vamp, Bettina (Note: Here, I’m transfusing from one of my novels that is still in-process).

In the second poem, the narrator’s audience seems to be open-minded, or in some way familiar, with creatures of prey like vampires, zombies, and genetic scientists. Perhaps the audience is one of her own kind. Maybe it’s a genetic scientist conducting experiments on abnormal cell activity such as that found in vamps and zombies and such. It, too, could be an internal monologue. On the other hand, since vamps have telepathic powers, she may be “sending” these thoughts to another vamp…

While both poems are in free-verse, there are other differences: in length, in style, and in tone. Playing Frankenstein aside, what parts should I take and attach to which body?

(Several hours later…)

Let’s see what’s on the slab--it’s undead!

My friend, the Vampire

says
I started seeing a therapist
‘cause Lance and I are getting
divorced

so I took her to the mall
bought her a few new things
something sassy for the solo
nightcrawler scene

around dusk
we went to el café de la noche
had an espresso with thin slices of lemon
she sucked on the lemon
added a bit of salt
shuddered from the souls
of her feet

I thought it was the salt
but then she said
Lance is eating meat!

Isn’t he vegan?
I reached for another slice
of lemon

well, she mumbled between mouthfuls
of salt-drenched lemon
at least I'm not a zombie
I mean like when he was turned
he wasted away to nothing
but he’d still follow me around
whimpering how he was so hot and
could we go to the graveyard
lay our heads against
a moon-burned
stone

oh how he stank!
worse then a grub-digging-skunk
in heat

I just couldn’t live like that anymore!

but when he started eating meat
that was it

she chose a larger lemon slice
wedged it in her mouth
over her teeth
growled

between guffaws
I managed to say
but you drink blood

that’s different
she tells me
I always use a straw
say please and thank you
before and after each meal

I was raised right you know
she adds to my raised eyebrow
reaches for
sucks on another lemon
says
these are good to curb your urge
for sweets


While the above may still need another transfusion—or maybe a morph into fiction—you can see what I took, what I left out, and what I added. As I’ve said in previous columns, save all these odds and ends. What may at first seem like a poem in need of last rites, may only need a slight transfusion to survive.

Who knows…it may even be immortal.


© Relf, 2006

This column was previously published at writersmonthly.com.


Relf is an active member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association whose poems have appeared extensively both on-and-offline. Jupiter’s Eye, her third collection of poetry, was published by Sam’s Dot Publishing in 2004. Her poem, “a poet on board” (Illumen, 2004), was recently nominated for a Rhysling Award, and made the Top 10 in the Preditors & Editors Award. “How to write zips and zip rengays” (Scifaikuest, 2004) was nominated for a James B. Baker Award for “best article." Relf is the editor of Hungur, a bi-annual anthology of ancient and alien vampire fiction (Guidelines are available at: http://www.samsdotpublishing.com).


You may contact her at: tlrelf@cox.net

 

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