Goodby Betty,Don'T Remember Me
My hands spade the shovel - spay the rooted grave.
Earth is impassive. Why won’t life relent?
The silver blades south for the black plastic bag
swallowed by west winds, wrapped in a blanket
that is olive green. Under the sun’s harrowing husk
I peel away the last bit of crust yet unpeeled.
Pink scab, raw, refusing to heal. Dusk is dawn, hushed -
the garden takes back what the plate glass revealed.
There is no breeze now as I sit down to write
in my black plastic chair once taken from me
by a black plastic bag. No peaceful leaves blow
as I swallow remains of what remains of night
while the lumbering bough climbs down from a tree
and sees through the window a fragmented shadow.
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment