October 19, 2014 by Wayne.
haven’t written any poetry in a while, so i decided to get back into it with something simple
It took nearly nine full months
For him to return. He asked for it
hurriedly, from the girl with the glasses
her hair now buzzed to the ends of her ears
She frowned slightly:
I’m sorry, sir
we sold them all a long time ago
he smiled weakly.
inside: a white glow
through his blood,
searing his vessels shut
whistling as it shot through
he trudged back, no, crawled back to jack’s
asked begged to buy it, but
the confusion and disgust gave way
and it hurt to watch
he swung his hand in quickly from the side
the knife stabbed partway through the ear,
lodged off-angle and
caught in the spittle and cries
who was staring down at him,
sneering and saying: well?
hand still outstretched,
coiffed hair unruffled,
and so he nodded meekly, and paid
Nine months. The gold skin had cracked at spots. To be expected, of course. And only when you looked close!
Only then did the spidery lines of dust-aged leather peek back.
And the criss-crossing strings too: they were fraying at the edges, and were yellow-brown everywhere else.
He slipped them on anyway
and noted with some curiosity that he was panting now,
and his heart ached – he could feel the adrenaline urging it to beat its way out of its flimsy cage
he breathed in, shallow gasps of laboured patience
The next day, he patched them up carefully
jittery fingers clamped to tweezers
clamped to gold leaf
intervals of breath to keep it uncrinkled,
then a dry brush, softly pushing at the edges.
But it kept cracking
it looked nothing like the gleaming gold
that had smirked at him through polished glass
all those months ago.