Lady Chatterley-Collaboration

She searched among the safety pins
and aspirin
for his note
(her last chance at flight),
underneath the thimbles
and the ribbons
and the brooch she saved
for Sundays with her in-laws
when her husband drank too much
whiskey
and fell asleep
at the table.
She knew the words by heart -
the strong curl of his words
like coitus
spread across paper
that smelled of cloves and smoke.
She could kiss those letters
and taste the morning
he bathed her in the sea,
and how her wet clothes
felt drying by the fire -
light dying on the window sill
when he drew the curtains
to read the future
beneath her collarbone,
no ink on his fingers that time
only the faintest breath
of flying

left stolen in the hallway





This is a collaboration with The poem has been chasing me for awhile now, and finally decided to make itself known. The artwork caught my attention awhile ago - it reminds me of Renoir and seemed to personify the woman in the poem perfectly. I thank Claudia, an amazingly talented artist, for allowing me to pair it with this poem. Please be sure to visit her page and fave hers as well!

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