A Whisper Into the Kitchen Floor
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
Copyright © Nico Coar | Year Posted 2025
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