Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Tuesday Poem: "Husk"

You are desperate for something left over
after all life’s betrayal and loss
to have the paraphernalia of happiness caress you
and whisper nocturnal conversations about the tenderness
shown to you by strangers,
but awfulness has been grist to you,
not merely the curiously sick substitutes for tragedy,
but the endless great sadness
that cleans the marble benchtops
and keeps the debtors’ wolves
from the door of your psychiatrist.

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