Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

E-Mail

You start writing that e-mail
thinking your heart should open
when broken, and you gather
your guts and enough words
in your mind, words soft as
cornsilk, words he can wear
like a lambskin coat,
words as lucky breaks,
words to bring him back.

But in your swift recall
the raised eyebrows,
remarks marking rifts,
lips without smiles,
the sight of the back,
all this, his
as he left in
the opposite direction.

Unhinged, your resolve sinks,
you delete and start over,
despite your fermented pitch,
disconcerted rhythm,
and agitated insight.
But your river of tongues
have run dry, and
your lines shift choppy,
no more than trifles
carved out of shadows.

Not good, this crunched voice
rising inside like lava
on postwar ruins
and scorched bones.

Thus, your new resolve,
there is no starting over
and you’d better
shut down the screen,
opting now for that brackish silence,
delicate yet brutal.

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prompt: starting all over again