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Akinesia
by Lauren SingerBefore you left you told me I'd be paralyzed by my anger,
my bitterness, my terrible gnawing fears.
I am thinking of the continuation
of your fingernails fully grown
pressed into my stomach like
weathered tacks, and I, splintered wood and soft.
I say your name, slurred words into the drainage,
waiting for an echo that won't come.
I water the same old flowers that you left here, dying--
next to the old bemoaning faucet,
and your seltzer water, never drunk nor disposed.
When I put your trousers on the floor,
spread them out the width of your legs,
I do not get inside them.
I lay next to them instead, squint my eyes to penny slits,
and you are there, almost all of you not breathing.
I bang my head against the hardwood,
until I actually believe it. 02/12/2008 Posted on 02/12/2008
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Paganini Jones on 02/12/08 at 08:23 PM It is the last stanza which makes this for me. Powerful writing. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/12/08 at 08:55 PM Fascinating application of medical term and condition to poetry and relationship. Kudos! |
| Posted by Timothy Somers on 02/13/08 at 01:48 AM What they said, luv. Bravo. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/13/08 at 05:22 AM Grim stuff. You hit those dark notes so well, my dear. |
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