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Sawdust

by Vikki Owens

My thoughts stir up the dust,
the currents of air in the room become filled
with the remnants of you.
Torn edges of the memory of you, how you
never were yourself even when you
sat down beside me on the corner of my bed,
the bedspread creasing, my mind creasing around
your sleepytime storys.
All you ever were was stories.
All you ever were was sawdust wrapped in linen,
A maniquinn that reminds me of the monster
that you were,
the larger-than-life trojan horse
always full of insects and honey,
my thoughts return to your sticky-sweet and bitter,
the grit of my memories of you falling
over my tables and chairs.

08/19/2006

Posted on 08/19/2006
Copyright © 2024 Vikki Owens

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 08/19/06 at 10:38 PM

Hi Vikki. Ah yes, this is pretty intense poetry. The "sawdust" metaphor being a powerful image and driving force. Top-notch writing, IMHO. Thanks.

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