I would love to write a poem a day this month, but I know my reality right now is that I have too much going on and too many other things I need to write. However, my minimum goal is four poems a week…anything more will be sprinkles on a cupcake.
Redeeming oneself seems to be fiction.
Personal history lingers and creeps
for the nonce into the mind’s daily thoughts.
Pretending your transgressions don’t endure,
they are the shadows lurking behind you.
Mild words or images trigger the past,
pervading your life with unending pain,
slinging sordid sins back to the present.
There is no escape nor honest refuge,
Absolution’s an allowance unseen.
Mutilation of metal leads to
a casket on wheels,
captured amid shards of jagged glass
and torrid steel.
aching to be taken home
to slide into bed…
sleep it away instead
to narcotic sedation,
inundated by re-enactments
of his mindless mistake.