Language
Phrases of accusation
like bombs
exploded in my brain
all day.
I ranted
a ribbon of griefs
to the bed
as I changed it
and to the dishes
immersed
in sudsy death.
My complaints
slid down
the length
of the broom
and left a trail
of resentment
on the linoleum.
I was ready.
When you came home
I was spent.
We watched TV
in silence,
the language
of our life.
8 comments:
Oh, there are one too many like this.. beautiful..
Hi Linda ~~ I like your poem. A rash of cleaning won't scrub those accusations away, will they?
..
Your poem paints a perfectly capsulized picture of a marriage and
how words can do inner damage.
A sorrowful silence, indeed. You have me thinking of the unhappiness that filled my once husband's parents house.
Oh I could relate to this so well...that is the language of our life as husband and wife...:)
But not with much guilt and remorse feelings...:)
I can visualize the scene. So well rendered.
Wonderful work! So well told....a pleasure to read.
unspoken
I like that passion...!!
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