I lay it down


it climbs back up

(stubborn as I)

we dance the room

(broken sticks, tipped with gold

the black of earth, unseeing wisdom


a fabled entwine

(for lovers do not call anymore)

they see the line dividing both parts

they taste the ash of my tongue when I bend

my neck to accept their yoke

and they build boats to isles of

less despair, where the boats become

homes and wood grows back into tree

where I know only

how to chop

myself into pieces

the way I learned

and never grew out of.

20 Replies to “I lay it down, it climbs back up, we dance the room, a fabled entwine”

  1. powerful words both harrowing and beautiful πŸ’™πŸ’™πŸ’™πŸ’™πŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ–€πŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ˜ŠπŸŒΉ

  2. I blame bad parenting, the general harshness of life, and DNA which creates people gone wrongβ€”all contribute to the sorrow we experience, and sadly, seems to get worse as we age. Aching lines but so damn good, Candy! ❀

  3. Sorry for the sadness. I know it puts people off reading. But I did read a monogram about the value of such poetry so I hope that is true. I appreciate you.

  4. A beautiful distillation of mourning, for so many things…

  5. Thank you my friend I think you’re so right. I appreciate you asking. I’ll write you a proper email πŸ’œ

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