Tuesday, 16 February 2010

re POEM 24


A pile of these organisms
pool to form an organic Loch Ness

latching on to miles and miles
of time spent in trial and error,
stops and starts, take-off and failure:

an unkind tone; a lie which morphed
into another lie and breathed a lateral
contrived existence -

this frozen pool of regrets fractures;
deep wounds refusing to heal.

Some call them learning curves,
others coin them mistakes of a kind,
whatever term of endearment is used,
the bottom line is that more often than not -
regrets tend to rot the gut.

Catherine Mark

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