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Dark Poetry #4

110

JenniferMaxwell

Member Elite

since 2006-09-14

Posts 2423

0 posted 2008-12-12 12:14 PM

When you were the same age
as I was last year, you already had
a husband, a son and a third floor
walk-up apartment

   that bricked you in and rubbed
   you raw with rough straw walls
   floorboards made of wet cement
   with bloody footprints the size of his hands
   and always, always - the wind at your door

in the aluminum sided tenement
six blocks from the park where
you went every day with the babe
in a carriage to sit by
the pond and dream of the sea

   at the end of your submerged bridge
   of what remains - the sand ripple scars
   breakers of bone, sea lavender bruises
   and veins wishing for tides that
   would never change

that surrounded the island
with the rose garden cottage
the green window boxes full
of geraniums and white picket fence
with the gate on the latch to
keep out survivors

   so many rooms in the black lake
   of the sea, first island home
   slate and stone as blue
   as the wild hyacinth in april meadows
   of october firegrass

from the shipwreck of your childhood
mother, a circle of penlight
crouched in dark corners, father a filigree
of ghost shadows running across a cold moon

   and the gold band of sea gypsies
   with the ebony eyes that follow you everywhere
   wishing for rain and always, always
   the wind at your door.

SEA