Like a lover he enters my life,
carrying his dark purpose into the bedroom.
Each thing opens to him like a map.
Here, today's headlines screaming of home invasion
lie blanketed on that chair
where yesterday's clothing is crucified.
There, empty shoes gathering blackness.
Keeping silent on the nightstand, that traitor the
alarm clock winks its digital eye.
He fans out the credit cards like
flirtatious birds eager to fly on plastic wings.
Closeted, the jackets and dresses line up,
Emaciated prisoners praying for liberation.
He pats them down, coaxing each free of secrets,
even as he stares at my face
Framed like a wanted poster on the mantle.
From these wrists, invisible as ghosts in this light,
he lifts my dead grandmother's bracelet.
My rings divorce my fingers.
Around my neck mother's pearls slide away.
All will follow, shrouded in pillowcases
Ripped from the bed's once safe haven;
and I will come in on his indelible shadow,
one fingerprint left in the black dust of fear,
Knowing I cannot break into the blank
innocence of sleep again,
until I have washed every sheet.
This poem is captivating and deep I will be looking for more of your work!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Val, I'm captivated by the ambivalent usage of liberator - the poem is powerful and balances something suggesting external vs internal forces are at work. The final image is cogent and brutal. Freed but a captive... Magnificent. Rgds, Ivan