The rattling of chains...
You never really left,
you linger in doorways.
I can almost smell you
sweat and Polo mixed together.
I was the one who had to leave
say my farewells.
But you held on, hold on
in your crab-like way,
your ghost haunts every
relationship.
As if you were the baseline.
What I compare every man to.
Let me go, finally.
Finally, let me go.
But you linger, like the scent
of yesterday's dinner.
Mere grease on the stove.
August 27, 2009
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 625 times
Written on 2009-09-04 at 06:26
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A Haunting
You never really left,
you linger in doorways.
I can almost smell you
sweat and Polo mixed together.
I was the one who had to leave
say my farewells.
But you held on, hold on
in your crab-like way,
your ghost haunts every
relationship.
As if you were the baseline.
What I compare every man to.
Let me go, finally.
Finally, let me go.
But you linger, like the scent
of yesterday's dinner.
Mere grease on the stove.
August 27, 2009
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 625 times
Written on 2009-09-04 at 06:26
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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