I woke up in a puddle with his memory
wrapped around me. The angels were heavy tonight.
I welcomed him back from the dead tonight,
but he did not welcome life.
He must have been tossed down from Heaven,
after riding Angels bare-back. His jaw was clasped tight,
reminding me of December when the snow fell so
hard that it dug into the backs
of the trigger happy.
We watched death fall out together, a few flights
up, before he dropped the dog on his tail.
Life must remind him of amputation now.
He took me to his rickety, flimsy boyhood.
I scolded him about the thin boards
nailed together clumsily,
and told him that this was not a safe place to be.
He protested it’s security.
He never asked for his old things, but I had them.
They were treasures.
Old t-shirts, books, jewelry. My frustrated fingers
everything that he could have come back for.
But, he did not want.
I told him, “do you know what it is going to do
to me if you die again?”, then I realized that he did not breathe,
or pulsate, or belong…
my eyes began to flood, and then I heard a voice,
“Oh! This is her saying good-bye!”
Poignant and a little heartbreaking.
I hope you write a whole book like this. The line “Life must remind him of amputation now” just hit me in the face and burned a memory in my head. Love it.
😉 I’m working on that!!! Thanks David. That line was one that stuck out to me too!
I think the first four “sentences” are a great set-up for something macabre and more expansive. Nice job MM!
Love your writing voice.
that amputation line is definitely a great one and over all tells of a poignant moment:)
I believe the ending truly ties everything together. Great Work of Art, Maggie.
“He must have been tossed down from Heaven,
after riding Angels bare-back.” Now there’s a phrase to conjure with!
Reblogged this on Colleen Carroll Posts.