Sunday, July 3, 2016

A Life Left Untitled (a Poem)

I've been spending too much time in hospitals and I've been working too much. I miss my poet friends. And I miss my poetry (although I have been writing other things).

Photo by Linda G. Hatton
She Is Left Open to Interpretation

A Life Left Untitled

She lost all identification
with herself. She used to take shortcuts,
but then became a person
in eternal mourning, her guessing game
was wrong. She was a box of kittens
left outside the Dollar Tree,
a stranger that came
to town. She was torn between
two loveless lovers, an impostor
and an oddities collector, a person
born wealthy wouldn’t have changed
a thing. The script from her last
rehearsal left a paper cut
in her heart, she was a person mistaken
for a movie star, knee-deep in cheating
herself out of life’s mysteries and ex-
plorations. She became her own
talking doll, left next to the bedroom
door, stomped on during that nightly walk
to the bathroom where she questions
her existence, questions whether this is all
there is, whether this is all
there is not.