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Maggie Munro


Damage Control


The first day sings sublimely in his mind,
standing on the honed blade of her smile.
She permeates each niche of his desire,
brazen joys which better sense denies.
Open, inviting, welcoming to him alone,
admiring, passionate, indulging every whim.
The cut is powerful and deep.
Inexorably, she supplants his past,
purging truth, injecting toxic memory,
expunging all to graft her potent scion,
an impossible, unviable future
into the cleft of his fragile heart.
Could the time be already past,
for salvaging what tangled shreds
of all his yesterdays remain?

Submitted: Thursday, November 15, 2012
Edited: Thursday, November 15, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Sometimes externalising your thoughts so you can beat them with the idea of baseball bat seems like a really sensible thing to do.

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