In this aquarium room;
metallic bile rises
- Yvonne’s death at
thirty-five, a red-ribbon noose,
marriage meltdown - loss
climbs on loss, like rats
scrabbling on rats
in this blue cube...
where the only sweetness
rising is the scent
of sawdust, a reminder of a time
before cubed blue.
Catherine Mark
4 comments:
"red-ribbon noose"
The analysis before the desperation. This poem has a sense of foreboding... unsettling dread.
Something about death at thirty-five. Only a year younger than my brother when he died.
Powerful piece.
~ Christine
And hot off the press, too, I see.
(Get 'em while they're hot!)
It came up on my reader just as I was finishing. :-) I didn't want to wait 'til it was cold (or I was cold) to comment.
CR
Hi, Catherine!
Off the beaten track in August might be a little difficult here... :-)
I don't know what kind of holidays you are planning (countryside, beaches, etc), but you can start by checking this:
http://www.visitportugal.com/Cultures/en-US/default.html
Glad you're not coming now, airports are closing because the volcano ash cloud is spreading and hitting us... Thousands of tourists are stuck in the Algarve since yesterday... It's chaos again!
Breath-taking, Catherine. The
last verse in particular is
haunting.
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