Lighting the match (after Llyn Foulkes exibition)

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I have never written a poem like this before….

Lighting the Match

hello she said to the clock

one day it left her bedside and ran away

Now her memory went faster than her mind could make it out
She wasnt mine
i wasnt hers
And the leftover days made their impression on me
She was stuck in an oil painting
Much like myself
Who was acustomed to lighting the match
To the unfinished canvas
And throwing away beer bottles
Into the fire place
And the sand and the glasses
not mothballs
Or dust
Or the old clocks who clucked their toungs
And beat her till she could memorize every second passing
Much like my mother who
Wasnt accustomed to this new life
This new existance of mankind
who had left her to breathe like a squandered battalion on the side of a muntain road
On the edges of a cool framework
And her fraying body
Who all thought I was gone.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

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One response »

  1. You give me hope for the young. Not only was I touched by your caring but amazed by your writing. You are truly gifted beyond your years. And you sing? I would love to hear ….Llyn Foulkes

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