The water of glaciers rose up to my shoulder-blades.
Trying desperately to touch the bottom with my heels
left the gland that injects memories
reeling.
Having not gone for a fresh dive
since eighty-two,
The forces that secure levitation seemed amiss.
Not quite like riding a bike, really.
With oxygen forming into a caviar explosion,
my shorts split the viscosity in sunlit strokes.
I'm sure your drowning was for the better.
Alimony shouldn't even have representatives.
Who in their right mind calls a blue-collared landline
ten-thirty at night?
Checks that needed writing, and for what?
To fund your newborn's love affair of formula, lactose-free?
Paying for new sod
to sprinkle onto your adulterous lawn?
The kidnapping was easy, what with your napping rituals.
Thursdays found you in patio spreading
that I might've funded.
Your screams were delightful as I joined you in brunch.
So as I swim lakefronts in accordance to Doctor's orders,
don't ever say I never visited your grave.
A contest entry
- I Want You To Tell Me A Story. by SliptheFlitch.
500 points, ended May 8, 2008, 13 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i love these lines: "Who in their right mind calls a blue-collared landline/ ten-thirty at night?" &&& in some ways this is really, really creepy & make me want to hide in a closet with a tinfoil hat to protect myself from mind probes!
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Very powerful writing man, great job. I could really get the sense that you were portraying in this poem. It was written abstractly and clearly put out there at the same time. I love the combination of harsh lines with beautiful descriptions. Once again, good job and nice flow dude. ^.^
~Slip~
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