The Therapist’s poem
I saw madness mar your
eye
A sliver of violent
yellow
Slashed across your
cornea
As you evaporated
worries
Into the steel air
Pocked with the ahs and yeses
You needed to hear
I glanced to the clock
Counting our minutes
And thought of the
biscuits
Quiet in the bottom
drawer
The day waited
outside, blue and ripe
Against the windows
Calling me to ignore
you
Our farewell began to
ring
Carving across your
voices
Allowing mine out
Then you left with
heavy shoes
And my eyes followed
gold.
By NLMcD
No comments:
Post a Comment