beneath the mask eyes are swollen
from midnight jags that wrack the bones
she stuffs the hurt back into the belly
where it simmers like poison stew
it gurgles up a few times a year
like now, when the world wishes peace
and hope for the year coming
she repeats the niceties in pleasant voice
with as much sincerity as can be mustered
do they buy the act, she wonders
A contest entry
- Emotional Baggage by zochit2me.
700 points, ended January 14, 2009, 11 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Sometimes pain plays its own games and uses the contrasts to bend us to its will. Most never see, for most never want to know. Those who can best choose carefully the time of revelation. Not all vision is a gift and perhaps it is good to allow someone the bravery of their silence.
You bring out the pain, wether addiction or some construct psychological in and immediate hands on way that makes the opening of the poem echo through all the denial that follows.
Beautifully (if such a word can be used) done.
Love, Tom B.
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i would tend to think...toy soldiers strewn about a sanitary wasteland...
and gather my emotions of hopelessness and put them in the draw
mal
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I hear ya.
Loved/felt this.
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Oh wow. she lives down the street. Very good.
Very good, indeed.
Joee
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i wonder too...
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