Death of love
I knew it would pass through me
like wildness
like pressure
like a punch to the heart
I never counted on love
as ritual, exhaustion, the snorting breath
testaments of frenzy—
saw love as more, hagiographic in bedsocks
not bruises creeping skin
we carried families like sores
I sought solitude from disease
you begged innocence
borrowed the cutting board
stole my meaning
the kitchen was the first part of dying
it hummed the diagnosis
eggs splintered curtains
hands devoured the clock
microwave ruptured skin
hairs dropped black veils
I soured
we stretched marriage into humiliation
piled insults like ghosts
twisted words into chemicals
that decomposed in froth
we were vessels, toxic and yellowing
Helen Hagemann © Copyright 2001
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>PHYSICAL INSIGHTS
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>The next stimulus is: "Poetry and violence"
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>Max 300 words.
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>Best to everyone
>Chris
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