Friday, January 6, 2012

Grief

It ricochets off the walls,
a push here, a pull there,
on the hunt
for a weakened seam.

I know
if it finds one
it will unfurl
and fill all the space

like an automatic lifeboat
expanding,
sucking in all the oxygen,
a balloon
of unwanted air.

Until fully bloated
it displaces everything
and crushes it
beneath.

So I clutch my fingers
over my belly,
and will it
to stay
inside.

3 comments:

  1. Look what I found--your blog! Ran across an old email and tried the link and it still worked. (Also found a different link to something else you wrote and wondered if you ever did copyright the underwear in the laundry basket.)

    Really like the first stanza of this piece. It's very "visual" in description.

    Excellent!

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  2. As always, good writing. Hope all is well with you, Christine.

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