by jeanne rené
... a poem of man's inhumanity ... a bombing ... at a wedding ... an image of a wedding guest left lifeless in a chair and linen tablecloth placed over his head. I've never been able to shake the image or the horror of the hatred.
at the table
the wedding guest
languishes
in celebration
his arm dangles a toast to the times
the glass weeps, purged of its aspirations
perverted reflections
in the sparkle of shattered desire
and glint of pooling blood
served up in the aftermath
and raised to our perspective
"to life" he cheers
undisturbed at the table
he waits
~ to life … to life … to life … to life!
under godly white linens
puckered round the shape of full lips
poised for his turn to kiss the bride
and dance beneath the ballroom canopy
swaying
box-stepping with the rhythm of electrical wires
exposed air ducts
cemented in an irreversible inhale
anxious to daydream in her arms
as they waltz mid the scatter of shard and ashes
"to life" he squeals
from out of the bowels of implausible
"to life, and may you all be left to … "
Copyright jeanne rené watson 11.05
Written some time ago ... still applies ...
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