Nobody Told Me There Was a Dead Man In Her Bed
Vacant voices and comatose stares;
Do you suspect, my friend, that this might be the end?
Gouging through the rubble in your eyes
There is blood and lies and deceit everywhere.
One day I danced a thousand dances whirled into one
One day I held hands around the tree,
And watched with the nymphs as the first rays dawned;
Giggling we scurried back to our dark nests.
But now life is a grey slate board-
With no pictures or graffiti to read on the walls.
My home has become Nobody’s home,
So we sit always together listening to our own silence.
Oh, the dreamer, I remember your kisses like yesterday!
The exhilaration of everyday being a new flight into the unknown.
Now you wouldn’t recognize me
You probably wouldn’t even see Nobody sitting there in the corner.
She’s always so quiet, her little murmurs you must come close to hear:
‘There is a dead man in my bed’ she says,
And Nobody, well she has never lied before.
I figure that is why she doesn’t leave the chair;
It’s stiff backing is better than sharing a bed with a dead man.
She murmurs some more and I know
That something is not quite right here.
Here in our desert with our comatose stares
Out vacant voices speak softly;
Although we’ve been sharing the same old stories for years now.
The stench wafts in as you leave and close the door.
Slightly shaken air brings the odor to our attention,
But Nobody and I don’t know quite what to do.
He’s too heavy even for us both she says,
And I choose to believe her rather than check for myself.
There is a dead man in her bed,
And if I checked there may well be one in mine as well.
Copyright © Greta Veranes-Kitts | Year Posted 2011
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