Untitled poem: 1/9/10 Her eyes like amber, dulled with misery. She lay abed with a glass of gin, and I watched her. Through the smoke of that fifth cigarette, I watched the age claim her body, The years ravage upon her soul. A house of silence, had known laughter for an eternity that was never truly there. But the pain, oh how it knew pain! The green-painted walls peeled off in strips as long as your arm, and as fragile as hers were. Worn, scuffed wooden floorboards, crying out every step that pressed them down. “Go no further, no further, no…further. Go further.” And the stairwell was quiet through it all, retaining some semblance of its former dignity. Her eyes like amber, dulled with misery, As they cried final tears that tasted of gin. And like a strip of age-worn paint, they carried her down the stairwell, which even had the courtesy and respect to thrum out its own resounding adieu with each footfall. The house was silent once more, the last voice leaving the hall like the smoke from my fifth cigarette. Weep, weep, the floorboards sobbed, “Gone further, gone further.” They demolished everything the next Wednesday; such a pity.
Posted on: Tue, 27 Aug 2013 07:14:54 +0000
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