Collective Unrest

 

Upon Discovering You Have Begun to Lurk in the Neighborhood, I Complete This in Finality

May 29, 2019

(After seven years)
you violated the ultimate human(istic) agreement:
I keep to my side of the bed, you keep to yours.

Staring at your constantly-fading face and
evaporating outline, if I learned anything,
it’s that I was made for better things.

I took a chisel to the bedframe and carved a gorge
between us. Gleefully, the Hudson burst the windowpanes
washed up a conch shell for my sailing home.

The last I’d heard the barnacles had blinded you,
so you could never objectify again; they complained,
even they, could not clean that sin off of you.

The Hudson isn’t a river, it’s a tidal estuary; and I,
let’s clarify, was never successfully victimized.
We offer you eternity to feel seasick at the thought.

 

M. Eileen writes and breathes near water. Her poetry and prose has been featured in publications both local and international ranging from Hanging Loose to Rogue Agent, S/tick to Monkeybicycle. She can be located at @m_e_g_writes. This poem previously appeared in S/tick magazine.

Please follow and like us:
error
In category:
Newer Post

My Daughter's Room 11.09.16

Last night while my daughter dreamt that the wind was brushing past her uncut skin as it streamed through all the shattered skylights, the country crept in and re-plastered the open ceiling.     Claudine Nash is a psychologist and…
Read
Older Post

One Thousand Women and the Way Home

i wanted to follow them, the women in white. i wanted the women & their billowing dresses to carve a path through the water, ghost- like silk clinging tight to their curves. by now, they perform the ritual of our…
Read
Random Post

Slow Information

*Previously published in Alligator Jupiter, Fall 2002, and Poets Against the War, March 2003 You decide to paint something, a portrait, say, of Hitler reclining. Grove of red roses. Blue sky padded with glowing white cumuli. Your daughter’s doll between…
Read
Random Post

Hi-Tech Silencing

Remembering the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi October 2, 2019   a syringe needle jabbed through his white cotton thobe and the screaming stops, his thrashing body quiets down, a blade whirls and four fingers drop, are caught in a…
Read
Random Post

Rush Limbaugh Shares Fake Story about Sharks Flying

Click the link to read Crystal Stone's poem, "Rush Limbaugh Shares Fake Story about Sharks Flying" Crystal Stone is a poet living in Ames, IA. Her work has appeared in various international journals including Coldnoon, Writers Resist, Southword Journal Online, Poets…
Read
Random Post

CRI DE COEUR

I’m tired of all those old white men in Washington, and I’m tired of hoping things will change, tired of empty promises that all will work out well in the end. I’m ready for some non-violent action, and the only…
Read