I decided not to do the prompt today. I just couldn’t get into that headspace. I had writer’s block most of the day until I found this tidbit in my notes:

“Crab apples have long been associated with love and marriage. It was said that if you throw the pips into the fire while saying the name of your love, the love is true if the pips explode.” (woodlandtrust.org.uk)

I’ve been married for 8 years, but I thought back to my feelings when he proposed, sprinkled in some Iduna references, and used this idea as an overarching theme. Below is the original prompt for today in case I want to revisit it this weekend.

Poem prompt: “Today’s resource is the Museum of Photographic Art, which is part of the San Diego Museum of Art. Through the museum’s online collection, you can explore a number of current and past exhibitions, including a series of portraits by Bern Schwartz (I rather like the one of Ralph Ellison) and a group of very painterly compositions by Lynn G. Fayman.

And now for our optional prompt! The Kay-Ryan-inspired prompt for Day Fourteen asked you to take inspiration from the sounds of the natural world. Today’s prompt twists that idea around a bit. Start by taking a look at this poem by James Schuyler.

FAURÉ’S SECOND PIANO QUARTET

On a day like this the rain comes
down in fat and random drops among
the ailanthus leaves—“the tree
of Heaven”—the leaves that on moon-
lit nights shimmer black and blade-
shaped at this third-floor window.
And there are bunches of small green
knobs, buds, crowded together. The
rapid music fills in the spaces of
the leaves. And the piano comes in,
like an extra heartbeat, dangerous
and lovely. Slower now, less like
the leaves, more like the rain which
almost isn’t rain, more like thawed-
out hail. All this beauty in the
mess of this small apartment on
West Twentieth in Chelsea, New York.
Slowly the notes pour out, slowly,
more slowly still, fat rain falls.

Like Kay Ryan’s poem, this one invites us to imagine music in the context of a place, but more along the lines of a soundtrack laid on top of the location, rather than just natural sounds. Today, try writing a poem that similarly imposes a particular song on a place. Describe the interaction between the place and the music using references to a plant and, if possible, incorporate a quotation – bonus points for using a piece of everyday, overheard language.”

The Pop of a Pip

How many pips do I horde,
how many crab apples 
like daffodil petals
does it take 
burning in the fires of matrimony
to tell me my love is true?

He loves me, he loves me not:
I should know the answer, 
but it's not the right question.
I want to unveil the intensity.
What if he loves me more than I do him?
Will he worship the ground I've walked,
or betrayed, run away?

How many pips need to explode,
how far do I count
to trust in a forever love—
the kind of bards penning songs
for out-of-their-league ladies?

I want the kind of love 
of Bragi's skaldic verse
for the daughter of valkyries
always whistled at by other men,
always turning her head at other men,
always needed by other men
to stay alive.

Sometimes she loves the attention. 
Sometimes she pretends to die, 
thrown off the cliff's edge 
like a wayward acorn, 
to make men, finally, leave her alone.
Yet through it all he remains
loyal and loving and true

and his trust never wavers
that he gets to lick the whole 
private bushel
while they're allowed merely the tip 
of bare teeth against the back of skin.

I think I hear the pop of a pip.
Two, three,
all five from that one apple.
Another five,

now thirty.

I think I already knew
I have a love like that.