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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He tastes the salt before he knows he's shed a tear He'd always been a staggering man Since his Army days known by most simply as Big Roy Now he's a staggered man This night, curved and hunched Bags so heavy and dark under his eyes They'd just as well be rotten figs about to fall And splat and stain the ground a crimson pink The color of the skinned knuckles of his right fist Driven just now through the kitchen drywall Droplets of old man blood falling to the oak planks below Four months and eight days she'd laid there, so still Like a wax mannequin, skin sickly-smooth Eerie sounds all around Synthetic lungs huffed and sighed, keeping her alive IV bags dripped, and monitors blipped Nurses in and out, looks of doubt Big Roy in his bedside chair, a portrait of despair Doctors turning shifts, side eyes, shoulders stiff Silent urges day by day, to let her fade away Big Roy clutching her hand, dangling from a strand His world narrowed to the breadth of a sterilized room Bank accounts wiped, his last dollar spent, insurance denied The final choice was made, not in Big Roy's mind But rather in a shady, mildewed committee room The call that signaled Bonnie's doom And sent her up to meet her King And sparked Big Roy's spiral down For he has no business up Swearing never again, never, ever again To ask of any higher power a single thing Now, on his knees on the dusty kitchen floor Broken hand dripping red Shivering cold Here, where memories were forged in steel Of griddlecakes and apple peels Of love made at odd hours, and in conspicuous places And ferocious fights quenched under light of candle flames Where now he fails to find a reason why Nor how, nor to what end To carry forward this miserable quest And draw inside another putrid gulp of breath Knowing it will never again bear her sweet scent Big Roy's castle, visited as he sat in that hospital chair By gremlin architects with sinister plans Remodeled in his absence into a dungeon of stone Iron bars and ghostly moans And voices of those who once professed to be real friends They all would laugh, if they saw him now Big Roy, once so strong and proud "It's been ten years," they'd say, "you have to move on." Where to? Fools who never in their lives tasted a nibble of true love! The salt burns, in his eyes His head's pressed to hard wood, between his thighs Back arched high like a spooked cat He confesses in whispers, down into the kitchen floor Between the old oak boards and into the land Feelings and thoughts only Bonnie could understand
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