listening to songs of love
don't hold back the tears
his mother throws
herself into the river
the artist sleeps
with one eye open
two weeks later
they recover her body
she burns a double page
newspaper, mops the floor
fills up a chrome bowl
with an aluminum kettle
he lights a candle, carries
the wick into another room
wavers it over a pair of shoes
neatly lined up on the floor
the artist poses in a bowler hat
smokes an old fashioned pipe
an Unidentified Man
looks you in the eye
the ghosts are dead or
dying that's about all
I've got to say I've
run out of words
don't hold back
those tears
switch the station
find another poem
to tune into, throw
a blanket over the body
shut both eyes
don't look back
ReplyDeleteby the 5th day
from a distance
recovering bodies
ReplyDeletewhat we failed
to recognize
run out of words
ReplyDeletestorm is coming
digging faster
Beautiful Rob - another poem on the blog! And there’ll be one about the fifth day... tomorrow I hope.
Delete
ReplyDeleteDear Kristen, What a poem!
Someday I hope to hear you tell it.
Indeed Rob - we must arrange to meet up at a poetry gig.
Delete:))
Deletewords run out of us
ReplyDeletewherever we go
I can't see any running away