breakingsod.com

‘Shit’she said.

‘I’ve lost it.’ Dragging her fingers aimlessly
through the bits and pieces of people she used to know.

‘It’s got to be here somewhere’.

I look at the box, but my search starts
with her rigid, angry shoulders,
Awkward flutters subsiding under seismographic hands.

Churning loose the dammed muscles,
melting spasms of denial,
exposing caverns of hot, hot shame.

The eruption shakes her whole slender frame.
Wrapped and rocked in my arms she sobs
ten years of damage into my lap.

‘It’s OK,’ I murmur through her hair in my mouth.

‘I found what I came here for.’

This entry was posted on Friday, May 19th, 2006 at 4:24 pm and is filed under illustration, poetry, art. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.