Ennui
Once again
the sound of magpies
hunting fill my head with
images of daylight
and picnics we took
under ash trees
on top of itchy
blankets
I know you only read
those books for me
to make me feel
safe in having something
to say when the conversations
turned to salaries and
mortgages
or maybe that's
unkind. Maybe you
just wanted to understand
me better
when the four ninety-nine
red wine reaches me
I taking about the poems
I'm writing
grape glazed eyes
stare, squinting through
the sun, trying not to
smile. They move on
when we are alone
again we still pretend
I lie about the friends
I met for coffee and
you tell me I look
beautiful
I wonder if you know
the way we sleep
I hope not
and you've never asked
why I crawl out of the
sheets when sleep has
taken you
I sleep on the floor
and slip back beside you
just before you
wake
we never mention doctors or pills
and you know not to hug me
too tight
I make tea for both of us
even though we don't drink
it. It's hard to shake
off the words our mothers said
about a cup curing
anything
when the birds are
still I open the window
and think of flying
to have a body light enough
to break free of
the mind
I take my first
lungful if air
but you reach out
and hold me
where my wings
should be
(they're broken now)
and I realise I'm not the
only one who pretends
to be asleep
you wrap me up
like old glass
in soft blankets
slip another book
off my bedside table
into your bag
and don't cry
until you've
shut the door
Copyright © Emma Lisbeth | Year Posted 2013
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