|IPT:Room for Two
Author: The Mad Poet PM
More Insomniac Poetry Theatre, which means this is still pretty raw. Just trying to get through my writing speedbump with another slightly disfunctional examination of slightly disfunctional people. Like I do anything else.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 233 - Published: 01-10-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2302402
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Room for Two
on knicknack shelves,
lined dutifully like teddy
and his pliant friends gone by--
it was theirs when the paint was pink.
It is now white,
beneath the powder burns;
black kisses puckered in half-dozens
to the door.
and one to grow on
The room was hers
and the rabbits were hers too;
salted they went down uneasily
(like she did)
and the skins came out coarse.
Wear them anyway,
wear them out,
where am I going
say the signs on
once kitten-posters and
flowers pressed in suffocant glass.
Kissing children on the tawdry shelves.
They were all underage, you know
(how's that for a Precious Moment)
and she might have been too.
He never bothered asking.
It was never about words.
It was about the rabbits.
The rags are all on the ceiling now,
the brushwork he loves best making
popcorn spackles shady
under spread legs--
she always obeyed gravity
though defiance was his Flavor of Choice.
At least these bunnies do what he wants.
And they like it 'cause the room was hers
Shotglasses shudder quietly,
shy in open spaces
(they shared closet space with the
lustbunnies last week)
and waiting to be six-shot down--
'that's twelve bullets and a reload'
he used to say--
and she would laugh.
would never take aim
on his glass rabbits.