A broken momentThere are shards of glass all over the floor
and a slow stain that seeps like a red river.
Her hand still trembles in the aftershock
yet all she can hear is the sea pounding
around the rock that sits inside her chest.
Somehow, all the years crowded into this,
just a few seconds to cover the trajectory
that spun from her hand to an opposing wall.
When does the unremarkable become a
catalyst for all those frustrated times?
She will pick her way later, shoes slipping
on the grit of smithereens of broken hearts,
perhaps to cut her finger so that bright
beads of blood will spring to the surface
and she'll place it in her mouth and taste
the metallic tang of her, a released spore
that will eventually dissipate as the
wine evaporates and is cleansed from sight.
No one will know or have heard the squall,
she'll mop and tidy away, each green
sliver and this slice of her life will become
a nothing, like all the cancelled events.
Poetry by Elle
Read 396 times
Written on 2008-04-16 at 11:41
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