by Rowan Luis
There is mould framing my face,
it reminds me of you and your bleakness,
your slow appeal.
Our sunken rib cages are eaten away
by this trapped fluttering movement
that we deny
and drown, using the time we spend apart.
Which is almost always.
Stiff material lines my windows,
to try and keep out the creeping damp that rises to the ceiling
and crawls down the walls,
over my face and arms
and my chest and knees at night
and round my throat so I'm sore in the morning after I see you in my dream.
and it lingered for days like the damp.
Author's Note: This makes me cringe a lot now...
I only like about 3 lines of this. Total let down by the end.
Posted on 03/31/2007
Copyright © 2021 Rowan Luis
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 04/01/07 at 01:57 PM|
That is pretty good; a great opening stanza to be sure, and the rest of the poem more than lives up to it... Very well done.
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 04/04/07 at 03:34 AM|
Rowan, welcome to pathetic. The terrible beauty of your words balances the mystical quality of the dream. The vivid imagery makes me want to escape the scene, but look for the other person in the dream to see if s/he is real.
|Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 04/06/07 at 05:40 AM|
is it really a secret though? actually, that question is irrelavant as this is absolutely fantastic.
|Posted by Anne Boulender on 04/07/07 at 09:16 AM|
i like the third line best. also the way it ends with a dream that sticks around.
|Posted by Ava Blu on 04/17/11 at 12:33 AM|
I like all the lines. I wasn't let down at all.
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 04/19/11 at 06:07 PM|
I actually like the ending quite a bit. Congrats on POTD and Happy Birthday!