Pain is better than numbness,
because at least I can feel
my life not just move through it.

There is a road to
sorrow.
The pain is palpable;
it involves
drugs, *****, and
bad women.
It ends with
life under a bridge.
There are lots of
hospitalizations.
It's hell on earth.
Seizures and sickness.
Love was my
haven, but I lost it.
I left ME behind.

the things to do
picking out the dress
the perfume and shoes
filling my head with his face
filling my face with make-up
taking up space on the bathroom sink
the sun sinking behind a cloud
clouding my eyes in reverie

Counting down
the hands on the clock
till four o'clock
blow-drying my hair
hearing the whirl of leaves
flying from the trees past the picture window
and the caw of the crow
rattling my soul
polishing my speech and nails
brushing my teeth/hopping on the scale

Counting down
the streets to his house
blaring the radio to pop music
rolling down the window and hill
turning the *** to catch a song
he sang to me
fixing my face in the mirror at a red light
butterflies dancing in my tight tummy
my pulse accelerating with the gas
as I pass the numbers of his neighbor's homes

Counting down
the seconds
to his door
crossing the yard
walking past the old Oak tree
following the lighted path
down the brick steps
holding my breath
wiping the sweat off my hands
turning the ***
looking through the glass
this whole day starting now

How many times have I said
I love you?  Those words to
express that for which words
expire on uttering.  My hands
alone clasp the urgency of
this expression.

I reach for you.  Touch is
explicit.  Your heart responds,
and I am your song.  You
who never sang Sing now.

The feel of love is a reach to
the stage your heart has hidden

in.

I am tactile over my self.

You no longer hear me  
as you have stepped away.
The hours have turned to
days, into years.  More
than 50.

Yet I move. One woman.
hasn't the  power to reach
for your booked and ragged
Goodbye.  

But I will go on because
something turns me that
way.  Like a spiral whose
Need is to turn toward
the sun.  

You illumine my life with
the memory that once you
touched me,
spelling the future
I declined so many
times.

I cannot walk away.  This
strophe will not
stop,

the message is in my

stride, without
you now
I am chorus

to the

play.

Antistrophe
for the gods

amusement.


Caroline Shank
2.12.2023

.

Sun, please allow me to apply sunscreen on your scorching face so that you won't bake us to death with your hot, blistering rays.

and I'll mess up my life
lie as a second smattering of truth
tell me what you got
before I put you in a plot
in my mind's grave

can't walk no more with conviction
for lost souls trying to make a connection
you know years ago I wouldn't hesitate
to cut someone's breaks and smash their plates
for you I would have put their face on a sleeve

and I'll mess up my life
but I don't need your help no more
up late but I got work at four in the morning
done mourning, ain't old love
I got other things to waste my time on

Ya Get What Ya Give

    Okay people listen here
I’m gonna take it from the top
You can’t make a baby cry
Then expect it to stop

There’s no reason for you to
Stop and question why
If you break an Angel’s wings
You can’t expect it to fly

And I’ll never come to understand
Why a push always deserves a shove
You know you can’t break a heart
And then expect it to love

If you’re not the Devil, understand
You can’t destroy someone’s soul
Then expect them to be happy
Or even pretend and play the role

So please take my advice if
You wish for a wonderful life to live
Always try to remember this
Ya Get What Ya Give

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright ©️ 02/09/2023
All rights reserved