Darkness within dark-

ness so much hope in loss

Aphantastic

ODE TO THE DAY MY INNER DIED

FOR PAULA X

                                                                                                               

Saturday April two thousand and seven.

I stood by the bedroom, in my mothers

Home. A divorced creative writing tutor,

plucked a red rose from the back

garden to remind me off her she said

she was  going to a teacher conference

in Slovina, I had no reason not to believe

her I never knew her not to lie, I think

I know truth now but that’s beyond me

only she can ever know.

 

I knew one day she would leave me

Love is rarely balanced, hard to find

a true soul mate on the thorns was

another bud to bloom. I put the bloom

in a glass read a poem by Raymond Carver

my knees buckled beneath like a karate chop

to the back of my knees. This falls into place

so matter of fact because it was so matter

of fact, that was the day my inner died.

I live now in this hell-cell, shell shock memory

is gone like a matter of fact.