i stood where i started from

listening to envy greed and lust,

my throat a weight unfreshened

refused to sing along,

echo around the laundromat

radio splashed it’s autumn gold,

in front of machine

behind me things i will never see,

thrum of rolling drum comforts,

hardship would one day

strike me to the grave,

for now though dead has life,

cool evening passing

food would be another sacred handout,

vinyl abstract floor

with cycle nearly done,

i had a book with words

your last fingers wrote,

the answer had been

when i kissed your hair

you a shining strip torn from me

an accident occupying a seconds space

my frenzied heart and hands

gave last touch,

before ambulance came,

now folding clothes softly

you are in me again

my sight is not wearied out,

and i will go

i must sleep

but only as a stone would

as dreams do not gather

3wordwednesday

 

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Comments
  1. maryamchahine says:

    Wow!!! Beautifully written and said.

  2. Kim Nelson says:

    Grief and loss are tangible in this poem. The mundane mixed with the eternal. Your line breaks and punctuation choices add drama and poignancy.

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