NaPoMo 17 – Crossing


Grief, you stained old mattress
you taunting empty imprint,
what had been my soft comfort
lays now  bare

How dare you,
with your barbs your thorns
the brittle branches of your empty
weightless form, dare usurp
a bed once dense with love

Grief, you traitor you butcher
you bomb bay door opening long before
we wed by gravity to this earth know
to listen for the alien roar of you,
you would have never been
welcomed into the shelters
of our homes, of our beds
but for how you make of yourself a bridge
between what was and what is not

A bridge I cross with full consent
though my legs be shackled,
though your infinite span be paved
with infinite razor-shards of bones spewing
forth from where my heart once fluttered
and swooped from the sound of my name
pulled soft from her lips


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