Monday, November 26, 2007

SHE DIED QUIXOTIC

She wanted only the brightness of chandeliers to welcome her home
not the thick dark molasses shadows that greeted and held her fast
caught up in sticky claws reminding

no one is here for you
you are alone

struggling seemed too difficult
better to lie still under a thick blanket of longing and loss
morose with the weight of doom swathing a black path across her dying heart
give in and let flames consume her shriveled soul
she would never know the mystique of her demise would be nothing more than a sad glance in the morning paper
'Ahh perhaps she had a terminal illness' some would say, explaining her early departure from the kink they liked to call life, as they read the obits, and tossed down black coffee, kissed the wives sped down highways to upper class offices, had affairs with the deciduous secretary of choice on long lunches, came home late to supper with 15 minutes to bond with the 2.5 kids they had planted deep in the belly of the high school homecoming sweetheart who exonerated her husband at her monthly woman's club meetings with all the members approval because:
He provides so well and actually who needs all that sex anyhow...really it just frees one up!

she would never know her dreams were just on the edge of the neon horizon waiting to burst forth in a painful birth





this was a poem based on 10 words given my Mark Stolk
quixotic,swath,uppish,morose,chandelier,deciduous,mystique,
exonerate,kink,molasses
Thanks Mark for the brain exercise...I don't feel so flabby now!!

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