Eternity

To speak her name
is like spitting sawdust,
each sound gnashed
and chewed;
not that she ever answers
when I call.

Some stains are forever —
her on my heart, the scene
in my mind, blood on my
hands — immune to scouring
with soap, scotch or sand.
Today I wash with the dust
remaining in the bowl,
go though the motions,
never to be clean.

The knocks have become
insistent, they are coming
in, whether I let them
or not. Let them come,
I will not accept their shackles.

Soon though,
I will be under her
heel again, a prisoner
until time ends.

.

.

No, I do not know where this came from,
but we have a poem for day three!
Such as it is.

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9 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

9 responses to “Eternity

  1. Whoa! From where did this appear?! And, do you want ‘calls’ in the first stanza? If it is deloberate and speaks to his character, then you need one more similar thing somewhere, so people know it’s not the computer having its way with your poem. I love the first stanza imagery and the carry through of images. Great story.

    • I wasl just at your place. 🙂

      and know, call, did not get changed when i revised the line…

    • but back to the ‘where’ question…just one of those things. From somewhere this morning ‘spitting sawdust’ came to mind, then listening to a song ‘Living in a Dustbowl” led to that line, just filled in around that while driving.

  2. That would be deliberate. Damn eyesight. You have to look forward to, a time when your eyes will shift one letter over on the keyboard.

  3. Wow… think this poem is incredible…wonderful imagery and allegory…really powerful emotions…just superb! 🙂

  4. Extremely well written poem. Bravo.

  5. There’s so much power in your words. I love the heat.

  6. Wow, fantastic and powerful.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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