all through the house
containers are hidden
carrying pieces of my life
all the same size
: tiny - circular
white as living death
no matter how concealed
still my lover finds me

and when she confronts - I deny
truth shouting glassy from my eyes
her face distorted into a fist
and I'm falling

falling

back to a time
when a loved one innocently
handed me headaches in a cure all pill
unable to prevent its own disease
toppling over diamond rings pitched
in a rush to purchase more escape

my car grows old discovering new sources
so they won't recognize their best customer
turning corners past greeting cards
foot remedies
unknowing the pharmacist transferred
from behind
he turns for me
recognition instant
his face contorting into a knife

© 1994
The actual timeline for this poem is 1987

680 hits as of January 2024

10/17/2015

Posted on 10/17/2015
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti