Recovery From 1999
To find you here
waist up naked
sentinel of this
worn out shrine
you call home
is the regular routine.
Tipped ashtrays
and open cupboards
spill out
the nothing of inside.
Beguiling you are,
the slope of your yellow stomach
bloated with the void of cold food.
There is nothing you can offer
but the posture at your door,
a precious teasing slump.
From below there
is the urge to reach
inside your gut
and straighten you out.
3 comments:
Lilac, I became an instant fan of your writing and commentary a few months back. It's all Josh Corey's fault of course. He pointed you out in one of his posts. Your consistency is beyond admirable, knowing how quickly one can fall out of practice.
Seems a story of a missguided soul there.
"There is nothing you can offer
but the posture at your door'
Awesome
Thank you both. Good ole Josh...he is great isn't he. Intelligent fellow.
Recovery is very old...about a very close friend of mine...nay my brother so to speak but not blood ties there. He was into all sorts of stuff and lived in a storage shed in the back yard of my other non blood brother Moe. Those were the days. We laugh about them now.
Hahaha...when my husband brought our finest brother back to Lebanon some years ago....he told his parents to just 'put him in a room and give him some ketchup'. True.
To get him off the chemicals he'd been on.
And you know what? They did it and it worked. He is now a successful businessman on the Cote d'Ivoire and has two children and a fine wife. A very fine wife whom I love quite dearly.
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