Captain Cur

Gold Star - 5,136 Points (Born Late 1600's Date of Death Unknown / England)

The Road To Perdition, Quilted Wings, Verse Iii - Poem by Captain Cur

I thought I saw her falling
while I was harvesting in the cornfield.

I was alone,
my wife was dead,
and I was in despair.
I got off the tractor
and found her lying on the dirt.

She was naked and had wings.

This could not be real,
just like when I would think
my wife was setting the table.

I picked her up and carried her to the house.
Her wings were badly damaged.
I laid her in the guest bed.
It had not been used in years.

I covered her and sat and waited.

When she awoke she said,
"Teach me the ways of the flesh."

She stayed for sixty days.

I asked her why she had to go.
She said; "I must find my place in the world."

Each evening after prayers,
I would go to my bedroom
and think of my wife on the bed
and remember these words spoken
in her soft melodic voice;
"I want to be one with your flesh."

I would take my gun,
empty the chambers,
press it to my temple
and pull the trigger.

I was trying to forget.

I knew one night
I would forget to empty the chamber.

The angel left with nothing.

I used to bring her the feathers
to her wings when they fell off.
When they were completely gone
I tended the open wounds on her back.

I thought about the feathers.

I once showed her a large chest
that contained things belonging to my wife.
I had given everything away
and it sat empty, like me.

I opened it.

She had knitted her feathers into a large quilt.
She left me a note, it read, "Forget."

After prayers, I would lie under the quilt
and forget about the gun.

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The Road to Perdition
The Road to Perdition, Michael, Verse II
The Road to Perdition, Quilted Wings, Verse III
Dawn's Rebellious Incitation

Comments about The Road To Perdition, Quilted Wings, Verse Iii by Captain Cur

  • (3/17/2013 5:19:00 PM)

    This is another poignant write. The sense of loss, lonliness, hoplessness and religious iconography and the symbolism of suicide and the comforting quilt as the last remaining link to the wife and the feathers from her own angel wings incorporated within, lives on. Was his wife an angel? Were there feathers contained within, or just a metaphor for her love and increments of time to lovingly craft the quilt? (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 17, 2013

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