Details |
Laurel Moore Poem
my boyfriend asked me ‘what is fragile’
and i said
Glass
Hearts
Bones
the wineglass i threw at the wall
shards of glass in the expensive carpet
because you kept pushing pushing pushing
born with a heart murmur
doctor talk for not fully formed
pulsing pulsing pulsing
bones that cracked
and i said nothing because i couldn't be
weak weak weak
my boyfriend as me ‘what is fragile’
and i said
Glass
Hearts
Bones
broken bits of mirror
because her collarbones stand out but she’s still too
fat fat fat
heart that can't keep up
racing towards an explosion it
hammers hammers hammers
bones that won’t produce enough blood
you bleed and you don’t heal you’re
dying dying dying
my boyfriend asked me ‘what is fragile’
and i said
Glass
Hearts
Bones
the porch door
slammed too hard because you’re
angry angry angry
a heart attack
his doctor said stop drinking and he
didn't didn't didn't
bones crunch when you hit that wall
a closed fist that needs to hit something
hard hard hard
my boyfriend asked me ‘what is fragile’
and i said
People
People
People
my grandfathers ashes in an urn
the closest we’ve ever been
his body in the ebony casket
the last time i saw him he was so close to healthy
a phone call from the school administration
she killed herself live on Facebook
my boyfriend asked me ‘what is fragile’
and i said
You
Copyright © Laurel Moore | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Laurel Moore Poem
it was not so much that it was pulled back
but that the release was a push
a spool of thread falling from the table
the gentle undulation of fiber through the air
that was the way you threw the rock
we both watched its journey
the graceful way it twisted through space.
the stone was weightless
the shriek of the window was painfully reproachful
the rock did not care and neither did we
for a breathless moment the rock was part of the glass
neither inside or out
then the glass exploded out like birds from a cage
glittering shards flew like deadly snow, like vengeful stars.
and the rock flew above all it as if it would never hit the ground
for a moment, we too believed the rock would sail on forever
it did not
the bitter earth grew jealous and the rock began its reluctant descent
there was a thought that the rock would destroy the earth beneath it on impact.
the rock hit the grass with a soft thump
Copyright © Laurel Moore | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Laurel Moore Poem
there is a body in your garden
exposed bones
exposed blood
exposed heart
laid bare
the walls of your garden
watch the body with unease
The windows of your house
open onto your garden
and you watch, too, the body with unease
the trees are losing their leaves
and the flutter from the trees
into your garden
you do not rake
they cover the body
the leaves pile high
but still the body is visible
through the red and yellow and orange
winter is about
And you pray for snow
The snow comes
and it smothers your chrysanthemums
your lilies
your roses
and the body
the snow piles high
but it never seems high enough
all too soon
the snow melts
and slowly the body is exposed
your walls watch with dread
as bone by bone
the body returns
the blood is dried now
not the bright desperate red
of fall
now it is brown
it is dried and cracked
on the worn skin
and the cold bones
and it looks like dirt
like mud
like filth
your grass had died
under the snow
but it begins to grow up around the body
the sun
and the birds
and the crawling things
eat away at the flesh
the skin
the tissue
they do a better job of cleaning up than you
when the violets begin sprouting from between the ribs
all that is left are bones
your garden is growing unsupervised
you do not go in to bring back order
you watch
from the window
as wild flowers sprout among anemones
as weeds grow through the collar bones
and the eyes
of the body
as summer rises
the grass rises around the body
as insects buzz in the tall grass
and the body is sunk into the hot earth
you do not go to the garden
but the body does not go to you
the garden has overgrown it
and the walls surround it
and you can open your window again
to let in the heavy summer air
Roots are strangling the earth
They are cutting tangled scars through it
They are snaring rocks and rabbits with no distinction made between them
Living and dead mean nothing to trees
Rabbits are dead between on heartbeat and the next for trees
Rocks barely exist for trees
Everything is slow
So maybe roots don't know the pain the bring upon the earth
And maybe they do and they do not care
There is power in apathy
Copyright © Laurel Moore | Year Posted 2017
|