He sat, motionless,
Veined alabaster marble,
Staring through a crystal ball,
Casing the scene, waiting for the
Answer, or another start.
Warm water had rinsed
Clean all childhood dreams and
Cleared his heart. His
Chest ended sighs, void of
Burdens they had shared
Days ago, as his last ploy
Pushed them apart, perhaps with
Intent to shield ignorant flesh from
Shattering fragments, atomic breath.
“I know you don’t love me” uttered
Callously, through stoic glare.
Walls had slid out of place, floors
Angled straight down icy cliffs, caving to
Nothing so palpable as stormy hell,
Nor poetic as lonely emptiness.
Everything lost its name without departure.
His Robert Rauschenberg poster,
Fragments pasted helter-skelter,
Remained, a flat reflection of
Attempting his usual joy, his
(the days of wine and chatter
swing lazily across the front porch)
World slid away, wrapped around his
(burnished light streams
through the dining room window
dappled by leaves of perfectly
pruned magnolia trees)
Ankle with a serpentine choke-hold.
(the cozy warmth of his new gas fireplace,
(where they had cuddled that night)
appropriately and exactly outdated
to suit the age of his house)
(the music of Chopin and Mozart
waits, stacked neatly on his shiny upright piano,
over practiced, under performed)
Watching his perceptions
Flow helplessly along and away and
Out, where ever anchors go in bottomless pits.
Echoes of clanging steel canisters
Coded everyone’s thoughts, so
Only he could see the conspiratory, stale
Faces pretending to smile. His
Hollow cave strained with leering alibis,
Empty of furniture to rest upon.
Until now. Slumped form,
Droll doll, dry of bubbling spring, his
Question had been answered, washed
Swirling through wretched
Tubes of a shower drain. The
Pained heart beating
Before this vacant house would
Ask, echo-less, “Why?” as
Long as blood flowed
Through thin, tenuous
Skins, holding days
Trembling in place.
For B, the beating heart which will never heal, after our once happy, goofy, loving friend, M disappeared before he took the life of his body six months ago. The astonishing swiftness with which this hearty, spirited man was emptied of soul will remain an eternal unanswered question.
Technorati tags- poem, suicide, schizophrenia, bi-polar, loss