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Spaces
He enunciated his words
carefully, slicing off each syllable,
reserving small spaces in between.
On the bus, she took the entire seat,
paying two fares if she had to.
When he stood in line, his stance was
legs wide-spread and far apart.
She wore her clothes loosely, so no one
could guess at what was underneath.
The thought of solitary confinement pleased him,
sounded satisfying.
Falling asleep in a hospital-cornered suite
seemed succulent and sweet.
Beware the un-regimented mind;
those who let their imaginations run wild.
Allowing plenty of space for it,
but not in polite society.
Pathology
can be somewhat controlled...like a
finely tuned engine that will eventually
explode.
And then there's the grin that's fleeting.
Smiles fading so fast into frowns.
They got caught
thinking sunny was all upside down.
Twin coiled cobras poised, sprung, ready to strike...
yet they're the ones perceived so quiet-like.
Do we become the wary, beware the quiet,
the strong silent types?
Wound up, quirky, one tick too tight.
He was so-to-himself.
She seemed unremarkable at first light.
But then there was the gun and a
ripened rage on fang-red October,
ripe as a split autumn melon or voluptuous pear,
the bullets splattering scarlet rainbows everywhere.
Before their day was done, their day was over.
Once living people pushing daisies up in the clover.
Oh the spaces we build, how we force the in-betweens,
damned, how the torque of them
splits the world with screams.
Copyright July 6, 2012 All Rights Reserved By Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her tilt-a-world
Usually don't believe in giving an explanation, as explanation often
diminishes. This is based on a true to life news story. And this poem is
also about the SPACES that we all create and maintain so that we can both
sanely and (in this case) insanely maintain distances. If that makes sense?
I tried to imagine what these two were like in their daily lives, well before
they went on their spree. What kind of distances they had and created in their
everyday lives.
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