I have been polishing the poem for this post all week. This is unusual. I tend to write them and leave them alone for a time. This one demanded attention. Possibly because the narrative thread needed to be very clear.
the hanging man
the wallpaper will not hang today
reprieved beauty unseen
as it has been these past two Saturdays
it is the hangman, the handyman
who can turn his hand to all the things I cannot
whose future dangles by a thread
his disbelieving wife
long his sternest critic
has finally had enough
he stands in what is now her hallway
stuffing thirty years of life
into black plastic bags
I think that the narrative is clear. The breakdown of a relationship, wallpaper that is not put on the wall, the handyman packing his life into bags. Your thoughts, as always, welcome.
Here are Palooka 5 being splendid.Until next time.