I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Self Improvement

I'm sorry I barely spoke
over supper tonight.
I'm tired in both lungs.
I'm tired in the tongue.
It's this old divorce that keeps
splitting, splitting different seams.
So I'm tired of reading
poker-faced promises,
of building scrap-metal,
thumbscrew consequences
for her anemic mother-love.
I'm tired of advice.
I'm tired of laying my life
on the workshop bench.
Tired of the tools
digging their grooves,
tired of the glue . . .
I'm tired of finding
new ways that the work isn't done.
But I am on the bench
and somehow, my tongue
got lopped off as we
solder on new teeth.
Please keep talking.
I'm sewing my tongue back in
with that sour old thread.


Eric Dutton said...


BradyDale said...

This is good stuff, Eric. I like that it has a certain hidden rhythm in it without relying on any traditional pattern (at least that I can discern).