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Scrape
by Timothy SomersShe lives quietly perched on the knee of sadness,
with gathered scabs of emotion idly picked, probed
for memories.
She seeks cold for the sensory experience,
she chases feeling.
Wallpaper dresses protect her from casual sight.
She encounters mice often
on her flight from rooms of vibrancy
as she slides along the walls,
down halls toward silence.
Shadows fit,
conforming thickly to her skin
and aid her sightless singularity,
alone for aging eons felt in dust.
Half lidded eyes,
pretended carved marble,
silhouette of frozen stone
to avoid detection,
she quietly lies to herself,
a mantra of deceit.
I am alive, I am alive,
Truth be known, truth be known.
02/17/2007 Posted on 02/18/2007
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/18/07 at 03:42 PM Most, most excellent poetics.. every word fits perfectly... thank you. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/10/07 at 02:03 AM There are WAAAY too many amazing things said to pick any favorite lines. But what amazes me as much is what is NOT said but inferred in line after line...."shadows fit" (as if not much else does at times), the lie in the mantra (not said, she is NOT alive at all)...I'm in awe. |
| Posted by Allison Smith on 08/19/09 at 12:52 PM This poem is brilliant. |
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