Tuesday I learned the name
of the woman who has hung
sword-like over me
for years.
I had always thought knowing it
would leech the venom
from the past.
But no.
It sat like a dead bird
in my cupped hands,
its atomic weight
an atrocity.
There’s no burying this creature
in hallowed ground.
Ghosts will always get
the last word.
* * * *
wow – this one rings echoes in my brain, the weight of myriad past events cascading like toppled jenga now!
I figure everyone is haunted by at least one name like this. It’s pretty universal.
RG, you make so many different, vivid connections in this poem. I love it, particularly the title. Makes me want to steal it for a story.
Please feel free to do so!
God, that third stanza is gorgeous.
I have come to read
girlwriteswhat said to look
good advice