Poems by Chantel Guidry

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Poems written by Guidry during her August 2007 stay at the Harveyville Project.

BakerMan


His hands were large
—and soft—
with a scattering of dark hairs near the knuckles
and scars from branding himself
with red-hot cigarette lighters
when he was just a kid.

The golden rays of sunrise
streamed through the east windows
and fell on his hands busy
pinching—slapping
—kneading—
the pliable dough.

The French Quarter
was already a sauna
—a steam bath—
making tourists and locals sweat
until our juices mingled with the atmosphere
and we were lifeless husks.

I asked how
he managed to stand so near
those wood-fired ovens
—the hearth—
 when the very air
seemed to shimmer and scald.

Hearing  my voice,
he turned to me
and said with a grin
“Baby, when you’ve got a fire inside you
—an inferno for a heart—
you don’t feel no other heat at all.”

"Poems From Harveyville" by Chantel Guidry

When: Thursday, Sept. 20, 2007, 6:30 p.m.
Where: 4-1-1 Studio, 411 E. Ninth, Lawrence
Cost: Free
Age limit: All ages

Full event details

Today

Today I adore
the wild Kansas wind—

the same one I complain of all winter—
more fierce than the ice 
or the snow
all alone,
it strengthens the cold 
and pierces layers of cloth,
to chill my tender frail skin.


But today—
today on the prairie
in the heart of the heat
of the most intense days of summer,
I’m glad for the wind,
the coolness of breeze
that rushes my room
and makes blanket on bed
a light and pink dancing dervish.

I Don’t Want to Date You Pantoum

with thanks to Jane Shore

I think we should see other people.
I’m not over my ex.
I don’t want to ruin our friendship.
You’re like a sister to me.

I’m not over my ex.
I’m just not physically attracted to you.
You’re like a sister to me.
I’ll call you.

I’m just not physically attracted to you.
I only have sex with men.
I’ll call you.
I’m in love with someone else.

I only have sex with men.
My partner and I just got back together.
I’m in love with someone else.
I’m not ready for a serious relationship.

My partner and I just got back together.
It’s not you, it’s me. 
I’m not ready for a serious relationship.
You’re too good for me.

It’s not you, it’s me. 
I don’t want to ruin our friendship.
You’re too good for me.
I think we should see other people.

Delicious August

Delicious August
dry and hot—
your incessant sun bakes
the earth
yet ripens
luscious tomatoes,
fragrant basil,
and juicy cantaloupe
which grow jungle abundant
in gardens all over town.

Delicious August,
your every raindrop
is precious,
your every breeze
held dear.

Three Short Poems

Random House, Harveyville, KS

The weeds are taller than a grown man
on all sides, and I can’t even see the front door,
much less a path to it.
It’s been a long time since anyone visited.
The peeling paint has faded to a muddy brown,
and the windows are empty, 
vacant like the eyes of the dead.


Old Bicycle

The front wheel is gone, and the frame is mostly rust.
When I touch it, I’m left with
decaying metal flakes on my hands.
It leans abandoned against the old high school;
weeds grow through it and all around it.
No one will take this old Schwinn
out for a spin any time soon.


Tony in the Garden

The morning sun beats on his head and neck;
he’s forgotten his hat.
He’s on the ground,
wearing out the knees of his denim overalls.
His large hands
pull the bindweed from the dry dirt.
There’s always struggle in the garden.

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