Prose Poem: Receptacle

Before I present today’s poem, I wanted to offer a quick apology and explain a little about my absence. My goal is to publish to this blog weekly. Then life changed pretty dramatically for my husband and I. I will spare you the details, but we’ve been thrown so many curve balls over the last few months that our lives seem barely recognizable.

We’re still trying to figure things out, but at least we have internet access again. While the capacity to write eludes me presently due to the brain fog that’s accompanying a flare I can’t seem to kick, time is becoming somewhat less of an issue, since I only made it 6 weeks working at the theater.

This means I can post some of my completed work, but editing and creating anything new isn’t happening right now. Luckily, I have some book and movie reviews I want to do, since I’m a firm believer in hiding out in some great stories when life becomes untenable. No surprise, I’m devouring one book or movie after another.

It may sound like avoidance to those who don’t get what it’s like living with multiple rare conditions, but worrying about a bunch of shit I have no control over is a hell of a lot more unhealthy for me. A poor handling of stress can be one of the biggest triggers for my health. I consider it an essential part of my self care, right next to meditation, breathing exercises and physical therapy.

For now, I doubt I’ll be posting weekly and it may stay that way for a while. I will also be publishing more than just poetry, which has been my plan all along. I’ve always been a multi-genre writer and while I’ve allowed longer works to intimidate me for a while now, I owe it to myself to try working on some fiction once this increase in brain fog has passed.

For now, I would be grateful for some feedback on this poem. I’ve probably written more iterations of this poem than any in my life and probably would have given up on it long ago, but I like the concept. Perhaps I’ve finally gotten it where it needs to be, or perhaps it could still use a tweak or two. If you have any ideas, as usually I’d be grateful for the input!

Receptacle is a poem about narcissistic love and treating people like objects for your personal pleasure. It's part of the poetry series 'Elemental,' which is a series in progress by Michelle Beltano Curtis. To see this poem and others from the series, visit her author page at


“Light me up and butt me / You’re sick and beautiful” –Artificial Joy Club

For you, I could never stand up against a hurried bit of pleasure in an alleyway between key fob swipes. I could never be the pleasure of the smoke or the heat of its burn. I was simply where you put the fire out, an inconsequential urn. An object I am not. Inanimate was simply all you ever earned.

by Michelle Beltano Curtis

All Rights Reserved. “Receptacle” may not be reprinted without permission of the author.

If you’re curious about the song I quoted in the poem, here’s the video. I have other poems with references to lyrics and music throughout the series, as well. I often find inspiration for my work from the music I listen to. Where do you find you take your inspiration from the most?

4 thoughts on “Prose Poem: Receptacle

  1. Hah, so far from avoidance it’s unreal – you do so, SO much, Mykie. I’m amazed you do half of what you do because managing chronic illness can make the bare basics every day a monumental challenge. Post when you’re able to, don’t stress at all about it if you can’t, we’ll still be here.

    An interesting piece, and well written as always. I love the edge of mystery you always seem to create, it gets me wondering about the ‘characters’ (ie. you and the other person(s) in the piece) and wanting to know more. This makes me think you felt you weren’t going to measure up to what he was looking for or be enough for him, so you didn’t give him more, because (and quite rightly) he didn’t deserve it. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This sort of feedback is so helpful and appreciated, Caz. Especially when working with topics like this, it’s hard to guess how others will interpret it sometimes. There’s so little to go on. I love your interpretation of it. It feels very empowering. More so than going through it, that’s for sure. Of course we’re rarely congratulated for standing up for ourselves as women, are we? And I can’t help but feel I’m doing my job as a poet if I leave you wanting more. I hope it makes for a series one can’t put down. Nothing could make me happier, my friend. 🌹

    Liked by 1 person

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