Anniversary Of The Walk Out The Door

by John Garmon

 

And it was that way for a long spell

What keeps pressing against me is the way you did it.

The asking became the telling

Then a distress signal roiling in my brain

Wood was pulled from the woodpile

We had an early fire that winter

I missed the seeking and tasking

 

Over the whole scene

Above the door the antlers of the elk I murdered

Deep underwater I found the stingray ready

A blue note of pain in my ears

No space for sobbing fake endearments

One jutting sky spiked clouds above peaks

 

That door was grey stained with poison

And it was only the first day of the lottery

The police were frugal and spare with words

One of them turned into a butterfly and flew away

He was a monarch heading for Mexico

The corpse was lifted from the half-baked market

 

And it was that way until the rain fell

Then the seagulls came down and picked up scraps

Of what was left of the picnic of our lives

The animals wanted my pencil

I gave them a fat bag of words

As if tomorrow might dawn before it was time

And our anniversary might come true

Like a storm predicted on television

 

©John Garmon 2014 

 

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Bio: Former president of Berkeley City College in California. Now an assistant in the writing center at the College of Southern Nevada, Las Vegas. My poems have been in Southern Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, Southern Humanities Review, and other journals.

 

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