Noose
Could I not follow?
And if I could not,
Would that be shallow?
One phrase, a simple breeze
‘Twas all I wanted,
Between the trees.
Yet every open hand
Is measured for a blade;
Every silence made to stand—
Proof of something I made.
I grow tired of explaining
What love is not to me,
As though affection, unrestraining,
Must conceal duplicity.
Every word, a trial,
Each kindness, accused.
Every act, a file.
And somehow, everything, excused.
All the evening asked of me
Was only stillness, only air.
I had it once, between the trees.
I cannot find, no more.
Could I not follow?
And if I could not,
Could I swallow?
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
