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Poem

I’ve wrapped myself up in the silken tapestries 
I pulled from the breath of her dreams- 
hoping the flow of my wounds won’t sour her memory of their beauty. 
I’ve driven nails into the floor, just in front of my doorway; 
He’ll trip before he reaches me. 
All I need is a little time. 
If I have to do it. 
I’ll unhinge what I’ve been crossing swords with in-between 
the thrumming of his quaking 6-string.  
Playing the same, unforgiving song- over and over. 
Just to watch me twinge. 
Becoming the vibration.
If I have to let it loose to conquer the shadows cast by lucidity-
May the rain wash the blood from my letters,
and the ink remain. 
I want her to know that I never meant to let him get between us. 
That I stared him down 
in the mirror, every morning.
Before kissing her forehead and burying his
curses in the laundry before leaving- 
trying to become whole. 
Hoping she could find a way to devour what I was destined to become. 
Because I was too weak to watch myself turn into the embers he shoveled into my throat when I tried to explain why I thought that no matter how much I loved her. 
Having a child, was a bad idea. 
I didn’t want to pass this on. 
I can’t allow it to continue. 
So, I stay awake at night. 
Waiting. 
For the trip.
So I can break the mirror. 
And let the rainfall. 
Become the embers.
And imagine it's her embrace;
A deluge softening the fire and 
letting me slip comfortably into 
the silence that was never meant 
to be between her, and I. 
-James Kelley 2017

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