Dear Reader, have you forgotten me? I hope you are still there. Despite the onslaught of end-of-the-semester grading, reports, and miscellaneous whatnot, along with the Arkansas Literary Festival, and during the most brutal bronchitis I've suffered in years, the sickly speaker would not remain silent. She kept pushing through between 3 and 4 a.m., and lucky me, that means when I finally had the time today to write, thank the stars, I already had drafts in the earliest stages waiting for me. (Scribbled in the dark, lines run amuck on the page and in atrocious handwriting, but there still the same.)
The first one began about 10 days ago, with lines about the forced sedation of the speaker. We've seen her restrained before and we've see her eyes bandaged against the light. This time she is being sedated to speed her healing after the transfusion. I suppose this leaked in because of "medically induced comas" that one hears about either on TV or god-forbid when it happens to someone we know. The speaker informed me that while the body may be at rest, the brain is not, and the poem grew from there.
They say that they sedate me
to tap the mother lode of sleep.
They claim a smooth, mineral rest.
Little do they know, the brain refuses.
|Veins of Copper, click for link|
As for the title, I've been reading a back issue of Sugar House Review that I picked up at AWP (#5, Fall/Winter 2011) and I am going to see Traci Brimhall read in Fayetteville this weekend, so I opened it back to her poems. In "You Said the Lions Disappeared," I found the lines "I don't know how my darker nature entered me // or when, but I am vain and bruised...." This set off a storm in my mind b/c the speaker has always had a "darker nature" but she also has this new life that has "entered [her]." A little tweaking and I settled on "Bruised, My Darker Nature Enters Me."
And guess what??? There's another draft waiting to be transcribed and fleshed out. Wahooooooo!