Eddy
In the 10th year of my understandingI misunderstood all the answers
as scrawling on a pad, I worked
down margins that never added up,
You spread my fingers and cut
through the webbing so that I
could never swim again except
in the darkness of shallow dreams.
Afterwards when decay set in
I tore rancid meat from the bones
and set out to make a broth,
an old recipe that promised cure alls
but in truth made us more sick.
So here I am now, in this spot
but still white water rafting.
Eddy, that was never your name
but I still whirled into your embrace.
Poetry by Elle
Read 694 times
Written on 2007-11-09 at 15:09
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