The Betrayal Poem by Joanne Monte

The Betrayal

Rating: 5.0


Today the drapes, for once,
have been drawn and, at last,
the sun has lit up the pine-dark interiors
of that day you poured me wine at supper,
I need now acknowledge.

I had failed to notice then,
how subtly your fingers had lifted the knife
to skin the lamb,
how unconscionably
you had cut through the leanest part
of the bone, the precious flesh
ripped open and steaming. I had failed to notice
how the table’s solid sheet of maple reflected
the sharp glimmer of the blade
and the rapid gutting,
and how, afterward, you devoured the rare meat,
wanting to strip everything clean,
the wine spilling over like blood.
It was your last supper,

the room abandoned
and the drapes drawn, but still clinging
to the one ray of light in the window
as though it could reach into those dark corners
and deflect the desire for vengeance.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 11 October 2018

still clinging to the one ray of light in the window as though it could reach into those dark corners and deflect the desire for vengeance. - - - an amazing talent at work in this poem- - 10+++++++++++ amd onto fav list

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Amitava Sur 28 October 2013

A very well written poem detailing the situation.

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Ken E Hall 10 October 2013

Very original look at vengeance makes one read it again...powerful...regards

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Heather Wilkins 04 October 2013

a good poem Joanne. well written

0 0 Reply
Guy Dimitri Jagodinski 14 September 2013

Nice. VIVID] I enjoyed this poem.

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