i’ve been seeking
someone to pick up this storm
and wash it down
with 8 am news and first cup of coffee
to vomit back normalcy
and fill this nun’s house
with pachelbel plants
that still contain sting
so this is the final wall
it pushed such mystery
like a man coming out of night
when my throat was still new
and i knew how he liked his name called
against his breast
his demons softly shoving
into my pockets
as if they knew
from time to time
even angels need to screw
and surprisingly
i don’t expect you to
understand
this is not a child speaking
to napkins and milk
but a person who is
dying brilliantly
expressing
a moment of
silence
this little benediction
of how she tried so hard
to lick small comforts
those flakes that said
yes
to wife-colored shoes
and i-don’t-like-monday breakfasts
the looming of babies and summer vacations
and sweaters that knit themselves
because i fear such simple things as
knots
&
needles
and you will never
hurt me
as much as i do
because that’s why god made the moon
his one good eye
round in disappointment
and always unblinking
that all i have to offer
are words
these fumbling coffins
embracing with gentle acceptance
that i could not say the right ones
even those that begin with
i’m sorry
so be sure
i have become the queen of swords
intelligent of the surrounding quiet
and behind the sleepy fire
the devil sits alone after a cold supper
waiting
and i am due
A contest entry
- "She Must Be The Saddest Girl To Ever Hold A Martini." by SliptheFlitch.
300 points, ended August 28, 18 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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i still love this so, so much, darcy, though i do think it could potentially end after "i'm sorry."
hope you're well.
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stunning. I can never think of another single word that best describes what I read by you. Love, Lane
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SO BEAUTIFUL
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This is really interesting. It seems more involved then some of your other stories you tell. I don't know how to explain it thought and it could just be my own impression. I like the depth to this. Kind of like you present your face to the world and then you let us a see a little more of what goes on beneath. Lestways, that's how I was reading this.
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Now, I haven't read the comments, but I know by the writing that this must be my friend Onerios! I loved this poem. Thank you so much for entering!!! Great job dear.
~Slip~
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"so this is the final wall
it pushed such mystery
like a man coming out of night
when my throat was still new
and i knew how he liked his name called
against his breast
his demons softly shoving
into my pockets
as if they knew
from time to time
even angels need to screw"
this makes my exceedingly shitty day, despite that i can relate to this and *that* caused half my pain anyways. thank you so much for your brilliance, darcy
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Amazing flood and flow of images here, sad acceptance and strong self-knowledge; again the power of your pen has me sitting up and taking notice. So much that relates to all lives, yet seems so personal to the narrator.
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yes, this is a bit weirder...more psychedelic imagery lol. but i love it. the man coming out of new night, the child speaking to napkins and milk, wife-colored shoes...
i mean god damn darce this is amazing. from start to finish. i love it, as always.
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