Departure

Some eyes open like black holes,
gravitationally throwing memorial stones through a moment,

letting time break a silence that lingers in every muscle,
every finger tip
for a soft crash of acknowledgment.

Other eyes move like flat lines and we must guess. Ache drips from our palms like candle wax, hot with the stench of regret
and blame.

I remember the first taste of his
time, brutal pine in November’s icy driveway. I know his eyes opened
to our flavor together,

but now he walks in such a quick
rush; as if the Earth might split without eating him up

and he talks,
like voices do
when they should,

but not one blink wrinkles,
or speaks,
or loves.

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13 thoughts on “Departure

  1. okay, now I am so f***ing jealous! lol!! This line:

    “I remember the first taste of his
    time, brutal pine in November’s icy driveway.”

    stunned…”happily” stunned by that. resonance is thrumming thru me from my heart to my toes

    1. Thank you. Writing is healing. I love creating the way that poetry allows us to. Thank you for saying so. I really appreciate it.

  2. I love this poem. The line,”I remember the first taste of his time, brutal pine in November’s icy driveway.”blew me socks off.Also the line about,”but now he walks in such a quick/rush;as if the earth must split before eating him up.” You use such vivid and unusual imagery here. This is a really great poem. Thank you.

  3. “Ache drips from our palms like candle wax, hot with the stench of regret
    and blame.” “he” … I’m not probing, or being personal, I’m asking about a metaphorical piece happening here: is there a particular individual you are writing about? This work draws me in, and it’s not a day in the park (speaking of metaphors). It is definitely beautiful, and sometime the beautiful can be haunting.

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