Memories stain.
A strawberry on the lip.
The remnants of a bloodied nose
on a white shirt.
Enjoyed.
Reviled.
Leaving sediment from the past.
Contrails across the horizon.
Years of lye and
drying like bones in the sun
dampens, but never removes.
Ghosts creaking the boards,
and rattling the doors
of your mind's haunted house.
3 comments:
So, I haven't been too inspired lately. For what ever reason I'm having trouble crystalizing a lot of the stuff on my mind. I like elements of this poem, I think that the 2nd stanza falls a bit flat. I am going to make an effort to respond to everyone else, because feedback is awesome & we're not getting/giving it, and I'm probably the least busy of us.
I too have been slacking on the comments and will make it a point to do so more often as well.
After reading this poem, I was reminded of some earlier poems of yours so I went back and found a couple that the theme of this one fits with. The poems "Hoarders" and "Scars" come to mind. This seems like a hybrid of the two poems in that it relays a similar message with a better economy of words. I've read this poem several times after stumbling over the second stanza, but every time I read it, the second stanza becomes stronger. The "lye" pun is excellent and the 'haunting' imagery works well with the subject. I like it. Is there a collection building?
Chris, I really dig your use of imagery; it plays well with the metaphor of memories and stains.
As a suggestion, the use of "your mind" in the last line seem to point the reader back to the obvious, somewhat ending the metaphor; perhaps changing the final line such that the metaphor doesn't end would create an entirely new effect of suspension... Just a thought.
In any case, another great poem. I wish I had half of your mad skills.
Cheers.
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