Learn to love
those white silk shackles
which lash your legs
to the floor.
Then the floor
slides out from under you.
Now you dangle
where nothing is certain
and certainly not guaranteed.
He knows
that half a smile
can't get him as far
as it used to do
or used to did.
Now the dogs are yelping,
your stomach's swimming,
the only food in the house
a solitary chicken nugget.
Suitcases are scattered,
packed, unpacked and repacked again
right there on the Thanksgiving table
right there where you folded his clothes.
So here comes the truth
with its painful shards of light.
Where could you ever find a shield
to ward off this kind of attack?
It stabs into your eyes and hands
and deepest layers.
You take it up
stab yourself with it
over
and over
until your love
has bled out
all around
those shackles soaking
slip out your tired feet
and fall through.
No comments:
Post a Comment