Planting

He looks up from the bottle

the life all smashed out of him

imagines her on the back step

in silver-plum sleeveless cotton

admiring the garden     on those

good days he planted with such care

seeds eager with hope in the sturdy

warmth of his hand.

 

On this dry scattered night he yearns

for the soft slow rhythm of rain

on the bedroom window

wild strawberries in a blue bowl

on the night table     the warmth

of her body in dawn’s misty light.

   

But there is only this fatal silence.

 

He lifts the bottle      takes reckless gulps    

the amber liquid burns his throat

makes his knotted gut tingle

but cannot erase the memory of that other        

bottle hidden snug and safe under the seat.

 

With eyes closed he sees the curve

in the road like a sleek black snake

that undulates suddenly     hears tires skid

remembers the look of alarm on her face

feels the car rolling down the embankment     

into sandy soil where only

tall weeds could survive.   

 

He hurls the bottle against the side

of the house     the hot night wind

makes him shudder     drives

him forward     his heart fills

with seeds     his eyes    

burn holes in the moonless

curtain around him and he plants.

 


Comments:
 
djc   djc wrote
on 8/30/2009 8:01:13 PM
I absolutely LOVE this poem! Your imagery is hauntingly beautiful! A very tragic story of the effects of alcohol. Keep up the greta work and you will be published!

Lavenderwind
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Synopsis
This poem was inspired by addiction, struggle, loss and the strength of the human spirit to heal.
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