Lois, I know you're in here
I hear your laugh before I sleep sometimes
I remember it's hotel alarm clock radio joy
Her kindergarten teacher did her hair in the morning
You locked her out of the house sometimes
I stood on filthy basement tile
painting dye in her hair
watched her face in the mirror
watched her face in a hospital room
spooning blue slushie into your mouth
I couldn't look at your eyes
I took you to the edge of town
in a small red cardboard box
the death of you
lit you on fire
we inhaled, exhaled
I looked in a grimy rented mirror
saw her on the edge of her bed
she saw it in me
saw our eyes
exhaled
watched him in an easy chair
holding his new gambling wife's crinkle fry fingers
saw the regret
he saw it in me
hasn't looked at me in the eye for 8 years
because they're yours.
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I wish that I knew you better so that I was more capable of understanding your poetry.
ReplyDeleteThe emotion gets me if nothing else, I suppose.
The great thing about poems is that you express your exact emotions... and yet, most people have less than no idea of what you are talking about.