Saturday, March 30, 2013

The Couple (Poem)

The Couple

      They even argued about how they were
          to break up. ~ Maya Angelou

You strike your match
over and over

till the flint against steel
sparks a firestorm of words.

There are no survivors
when the sortie ends, yet

you claim, again, only one
of us ever feels the burning

eye on the back always turned.
This tongue cannot reform

letters hurtled through air
and meant to spit black rain.

That poison's been lapped
from the gutters before.

Poked, every old wound's
reopened, collecting what's

deposited in ash. Soon
enough this body grows cold.

© 2013 Maureen E. Doallas

1 comment:

nance said...

poking... old wounds reopened
i hate it when that happens
it's just so tiring to body and mind