| Author | Post |
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timmy
Member
| Joined: | Fri Jun 9th, 2006 |
| Location: | Oz, Minnesota USA |
| Posts: | 323 |
| Status: |
Offline
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| Mana: |    |
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Posted: Sat Mar 29th, 2008 02:52 pm |
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i hear them outside
in lonely evenings,
scratching at the door
most often late
always, i open, not really
caring to see who’s there
they file past me, clutching dated news
papers in their blue hands, hair disheveled,
each trailing a mothball scent
my uncle chain smokes, grandmother
turns down her hearing aid before
sitting comfortably in her old pine
rocker in the far corner
no one speaks, not even to answer
my questions or my pathetic offers
of coffee or red sherry
in the twenty minutes it takes
for them to overstay their welcome,
i re-open the door and they shuffle
back out into shadows
grandmother, always the last
to leave, stops and whispers
softly into my ear;
i smile but do not understand
her words
i take a few seconds to savor
the lingering smell
of her peppermint breath
before closing the door to wonder
who they will visit when i’m gone
and whether or not i’ll be with them
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in media res
Member
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Posted: Sun Mar 30th, 2008 03:30 am |
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timmy,
they file past me, clutching dated news
papers in their blue hands, hair disheveled,
each trailing a mothball scent
in the twenty minutes it takes
for them to overstay their welcome,
i re-open the door and they shuffle
back out into shadows
i take a few seconds to savor
the lingering smell
of her peppermint breath
You only keep ripping my heart out with your brilliance.
Thank you yet again x 1000!
best,
in media res
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