twenty two years ago this day
I received news
you were shot. broken.
a long way away
i stood here
stared
at baby shoes,
teddy bears, once silken
lace camiknickers, feather fans
personal things with the scent
of sweat and perfumed skin
trapped within them;
the tactile
artifices calcified
grim coral pearls
that once were eyes
transmogrified
searched for answers
and the child
asleep
in my arms snuffled trusting
in my decisions.
i hung my life on a chain
in the petrifying well
and asked the High Priestess
for just twenty more years
with you
alive
today,
my external skeleton,
a warrior's discarded armour,
swings creaking at the crossroads
like the bones
of the Hanged Man
borrowing time.
Author notes
http://www.digicam69.co.uk/knaresboro09.jpg
The Petrifying Well at Mother Shipton's Cave Knaresborough North Yorkshire England.
Photo from Knaresboro Tourist website
Edited Re-post
What did you think
Comments
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This is a wonderfully descriptive piece and so very touching, the photo is extraordinary too, one of yours? It is the little things, those small, personal possessions that people own that can bring us into contact with them, especially if we too own something similar. You brought to this work further tenderness by bringing personal experience into the story.
This part,
'grim coral pearls/that once were eyes/transmogrified'
is excellent. The word, transmogrified, slows the tempo nicely at the end of the items listed before coming back to the opening theme. Great.
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Thanks Andrew- the photo isnt mine, I used one in the public domain. I should have said.
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Kind of reminded me of that tarot deck and hands of fate in a real life moment. Guess we can relate the surreal world with the real if inclined to. I loved the last stanza, too many times I've turned over that card
C
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