A Marrytime Tale
They say Marriage is a 50/50 love, yet
at its end I became that lonesome dove.
Seeing I was outnumbered, I slowly caved into
her marital masquerade, a benevolent shapeshifter
of sorts in a solemn Pisces recompense of
"yes dear" compromises leaving my sketchy
identity in a veritable viscous check. An Ohio
native, trustworthy to everyone and their brotherly
ways, I lived in a quicksand society, nameless
always in a wonderment maze of, why are these things
happening to me? More tried, more loss, an equation
of never ending restitudes of who am I questions.
Slowly I digressed into a patriarchal panorama pattern
of being, doing, acting; am I becoming Her?
Thus, where isth thou dave? Filtering one's consciousness
into another's unknown abyss/bliss/piss left me an
automaton of male ambiguity. The more I did, strove and desired
the worse it got--the worse it got the more I did.
A perfect conundrum did exist unto us.
A moratorium on myself in the quake of control through
everything that was once Me. I became a Drone, the ultimate
worker bee to instantly garner and satisfy the Queen of Hearts,
lest I lose my head, in order to stay in the nest. I rose to
every occasion despite her intricate detail of wantedness, though
only somewhat posthumously regarded in mixed company
with minimal respect. Why then stayth you sayth?
My three salient sons you see, I gave them my all from Aa to Zz.
Yet in these interims of fast forward times of future undoings,
platitudes and sheltered paths of primrose promises, I rated
last on the list with all. My only offspring solace comes from the reading
of the Prophet prose on "Children". A must read book for
all things on all counts to all persons.
Call it what you will as I swallowed
that pill to be ever present.
With no regrets, remorse, fear or animosity,
the past is just that--dead and gone, RIP.
With all life's deeds and that ever beckoning specter of
physical death
that knows us everyone, I go in peace.
I gave it/we/us/them the very essence of my being.
Love is all you need when the curtain falls.
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2022
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