Or is it Just Me. . .

I wanted to know why.

Why he was so quiet

–when I had told him everything–

and in that void

I spewed.

Answering my own uncertainty

with all the dirt collected

in the corners of my fears

–and more.

 

Vacuum in reverse,

I coated the nothing

in darkness within.

Growing thief-thick,

and animate, besides,

these released Tommyknockers

towered in

naked trembles above

and all around–

throwing undulating shadows

that danced a grim jig

–and threatened–

–and mocked–

–and kept amazing time–

(deliverance be damned)

 

Undone and wrung out,

when the darkness

was exhausted

the flickering light

that yet existed

(within)

dimmed

and

new darkness grew.

 

Don’t ask why.

(is the take away)

Asking why

turns burners on

–front and back mind burners–

and prepares a

meal-for-one

repast

that trumps Humble Pie and

Crows meant for snacking and

Everything better served cold and

no matter how vigilantly

that bubbling stew is watched

–burns down

houses.

 

Vacuums and all.

 

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: