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elizabeth-reevesPoems
He would file the edges of glasses down Whenever one would chip And I would find them, Rough rimmed Ragged edges ground And always where my lips would rest. I don’t know why it annoyed me so. Perhaps because I hated the imperfection so badly But the dishes too, he began to glue those When broken and that was too much. Cup handles superglued and breaking just As I lifted the hot liquid for a sip Lead crystal port decanters with the Elegant stoppers mended And sitting cockeyed on top Daring me to lift it and then Only to break over and over And him, trying to fix it again and again and again. I found myself deliberately smashing things Down when chipped, or flawed Throwing them on anything hard. The backyard patio became my favorite Breaking point. I couldn’t stop. although I cut my feet and knees While creeping through the yard barefoot Weeping. I hid the adhesive. Just so he couldn’t try to mend things one More time. I severed the cord on the grinding wheel And found myself examining anything fragile with a keen eye= Sometimes a magnifying glass. Searching for any imperfection that might prove A flaw capable of breaking. And in the end it seemed to me That nothing, nothing could leave this house Until finally, eternally, unfix ably broken or crushed into pieces.
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Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
The Last Straw.
He would file the edges of glasses down Whenever one would chip And I would find them, Rough rimmed Ragged edges ground And always where my lips would rest. I don’t know why it annoyed me so. Perhaps because I hated the imperfection so badly But the dishes too, he began to glue those When broken and that was too much. Cup handles superglued and breaking just As I lifted the hot liquid for a sip Lead crystal port decanters with the Elegant stoppers mended And sitting cockeyed on top Daring me to lift it and then Only to break over and over And him, trying to fix it again and again and again. I found myself deliberately smashing things Down when chipped, or flawed Throwing them on anything hard. The backyard patio became my favorite Breaking point. I couldn’t stop. although I cut my feet and knees While creeping through the yard barefoot Weeping. I hid the adhesive. Just so he couldn’t try to mend things one More time. I severed the cord on the grinding wheel And found myself examining anything fragile with a keen eye= Sometimes a magnifying glass. Searching for any imperfection that might prove A flaw capable of breaking. And in the end it seemed to me That nothing, nothing could leave this house Until finally, eternally, unfix ably broken or crushed into pieces.
Written by
elizabeth-reeves
New Jersey
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
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