I wanted to forget death.
I wanted to write in fat crayons.
I wanted to collect bitter pottery
and crunch the blue and white pieces together
while broken teacup handles became necklaces
and you praised the seaglass.
You scrubbed our grubby palms and fingernails.
Now I can only imagine
when I wear your yellow dress
that your body is full of antiques
while ours, full of sour loyalty.
Eventually, the miserable sky will sting our winter clothes
and we will remember this summer
as when your speech wrinkled in your chest
and crept out in ribbons of ghosts and hallucinations.
The morphine pumped between us.
We drive past your house
and it still looks and smells like
dumpy teabags
while we become flitting children again.
When others move in,
there will be new curtains,
fresh paint on the walls,
and most importantly, a coffee table
over the spot on the carpet
where you pressed ornaments into my hands
as stupid presents.
And now, on that shelf,
it is just a china swan, a painted tin,
a cat curved woodenly, hiding its face in its paws
and the green glass beads we called crocodile tears.
Now we watch while you become
grey as a grandmother,
ridiculous in this flower-choked room.
You flicker like a ghost.
Whole blizzards of pills have crashed down your throat
to bump, useless, in your stomach.
So when it gets late,
we will wait, steeped in nurses and frantic machines.
I will pretend while it ends
that you are not bald,
not hollowed by sick skin and prayer,
not listless in the last dance that kills and kills.
But I will wake up tomorrow.
You will resemble a rag
throned in oak and earth.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
crisp, polished language + rawness/bite
that wasn't supposed to be an equation, but it looks like one
I really enjoyed this poem -- but I enjoyed it in a way that hurts, so I guess that's not quite enjoyment. Maybe understand-ment & appreciation-ment are more apt than enjoyment.
Some very sharp lines in here.
-
-
Thank you
-
-
I had forgotten poetry
I haven't read any poetry in probably years and I haven't written any in longer and today I put pen to paper (or rather finger to keys) and I decided to see your latest creation before I upload my first draft and it is devine. I love the line "Eventually, the miserable sky will sting our winter clothes" and I also love the part about "when others move in.." etc.
It is amazing
Llennett xoox
-
-
Thanks
-
-
Whoa! This is extremely powerful. It spoke volumes to me and I don't know where to begin. Your pen is true and I like this style very much!! I'm going to check out your page!! Awesome poem!!
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
