"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Bouquets of Irony

Your goodbye has me surrounded
by all the roses you never gave me.
It is unsettling to have my senses
assaulted by bouquets of irony.
I hear you whisper in my ear,
“Scissored petals only steal
green from my pockets.”

Like a deposed witness I answer questions
with expected answers of where and when,
but why is deflected by, “God only knows.”

Is this Tuesday? Sunday still shows on the calendar.
Time flies…Well, the fog has wings…
A depth of six feet requires too many choices…
metal or wood, decorated dignity or austere,
definitely not a gray lining, the hierarchy of padded chairs…

Now I am expected to shed tears just because
eternity is punctuated with stems in pretty vases.
I want all of it to be over…You’ve already reached silence.
I hate to sew, yet here I sit stitching wounds….
praying I have enough thread.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2016


brudberg said...

The last few lines are so perfect for that sadness of being deceived...

Gemma Wiseman said...

Such a quietly ironic way to express deep grief. Flowers mocking and the thread loosely connecting with The Fates.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Susie, trust you to come up with the phrase: a bouquet of irony!
I am so in envy right now.
This is just amazing work with the intimations of death abounding.

Raivenne said...

"A depth of six feet requires too many choices…"

Goodness that hit me so hard.

Timoteo said...

WOW, Susie...just WOW! You had me at "surrounded by all the roses you never gave me."

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Wow, quiet a bit of emotion in this. It has the palpable gravitas of a funeral. Loved.

kaykuala said...

I hate to sew, yet here I sit stitching wounds….
praying I have enough thread.

To think there is not enough fodder to counter the long-standing unfairness imposed by the inconsiderate male. Great lines Susie!


Jim said...

I like your 'six feet under' cliche, Susie. Very appropriate place to keep what of him is still lingering around in your (poet's) haunts.
Been there, done that. There is an old CW song, "Thank God and Greyhound, she's gone." My ex's 4th husband was a keeper for her or she gave up looking for what wasn't there or whatever. Plus they moved to West Texas.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Your writing always astounds me, but this one even more so. Brilliant writing, Susie........the closing lines especially sew the poem up to perfection. Smiles. You are writing in your full power these days!

Stacie Eirich said...

Susie -- You weave together both beauty and sadness...your last lines still lingering with me. Thanks for sharing. Stacie

angieinspired said...

very earnest...the stitching...all of it

Marian said...

Bouquets of irony! This is really unsettling, a bit mysterious, fascinating.

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