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A Tragedy of the Fourth Stage
by Kristina WoodhillThere is no Macbeth in this family,
no Lady M, sullen in the shadows
above, pulling a stringed puppet
along, jagged blade held
by a wooden hand that is raised
not quite against its will;
some nightmare, this is;
some Stephen King penning
a too-long novel, this is;
drug out, drug out, (and repeat).
(To die, to die, to kill, to bleed;
you are all out of order!)
To some end, at least she had
a reason, a selfish motive,
a clearly insane mind filled
with simple wants;
now there's a kiss of sky to earth,
an everyday event
waiting for its next rising.
She was dependable, sly Lady M,
like a frog tongue slapping bugs
straight out, straight up, slllwappp!
Curves do not approach her road.
No, no, this family, mine own
is filled with bastards,
not birthed behind some smirking door,
some churlish smeared window
of woeful rape (oh, can you not
hear the rousing cries for help?
They are not there,
I assure you; lips open to black.)
This stage, on which I play the younger,
crawls with self-made bastards,
falling over themselves and their
close cousins in hilarious
self destruction; what a comedy
of errors! What a family album!
Each page of this stage seems
to reach the fourth with ease;
and then, by their own hands,
(I would cut them off, but they caress
with sexy liquid, smoky silk, do they not?)
the fires they all have lit,
swallowed deeply into their bowels,
inviting Hell year after year,
begin the inside-out burn -
little flaming pockets, little flaming
spotlets, fast growing in the dark.
This is no spot that I can cleanse
to make it go away.
Damn you, damn you, damn you!
01/11/2010 Author's Note: Another cousin diagnosed; where once we were 11, soon we will be 8. And all I can do is watch.
Posted on 01/12/2010
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michael Smith on 01/12/10 at 05:24 AM Your anguish is well presented and now felt by us all. Thank you very much for sharing this, Kristina. My prayers for you and your family. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 01/12/10 at 01:32 PM masterfully written, Kristina. whatever lurks in front or behind the curtain of this powerfully provoking ode, the hint at the mystery of it suffices me. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 01/13/10 at 06:18 PM You take this tragedy and lay it out so loudly, so masterfully, even cleverly. But the reality of it so powerfully surpasses any praise of art that could be offered, it just doesn't feel exactly right to offer....hard stuff Kristina. Hard stuff. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 01/15/10 at 05:43 PM I am stealing you and taking you to my Oak Tree. Forgive me in advance. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/15/10 at 07:17 PM Kristina, what else can I say except that this is rendered so perfectly, with such precision and yet such candid pain...it is a piece worthy of great admiration while at the same time I wish nothing but a cessation of grief for you. It isn't much I suppose, but I send my sympathy and good thoughts to you -may they help a little in tough times. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/27/10 at 12:37 PM I missed this piece m'lady and to my shame. It one of the best I've read on this site. So very strong and so very pure. Wonderful!! |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 01/31/10 at 06:11 PM A VERY powerful write, and, as always- you imagry is outstanding. My Mother used to call me "Lady Macbeth".
I'm sorry for your impending loss- what else can I say. Unfortunately, it is "all in the genes". There is no way to escape your destiny. All one can do is pray for the best.
Thanks for sharing. |
| Posted by Michael Faraday on 09/06/11 at 04:23 PM Enjoyed this. thanks, j |
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