Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Cold Chasm

He used to devour them, wives that is -
sweet, delicate things who gave him
their hearts, three in all over the dark years,
destined sooner or later to look deep
into his vacant eyes and know the desolation
those eyes offered, to comprehend
the cold chasm of pain to which their
innocence and credulity had brought them.

Today two of the former wives stand
an appropriate distance from his grave
and the restless band of participants,
immediate family to be sure, those
who tried but could find nothing else
to do on this blustery day. The ex-wives
each scoop a handful of damp earth
and with spiteful satisfaction throw it
into the gaping mouth of his grave.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sounds like in the end he got what he gave. That's poetic justice.

Anonymous said...

It sounds like in the end he got what he gave, That's Poetic justice.
Your Cuz

Warren said...

Yep, Cuz Fay - it all comes back around, doesn't it. Love ya -

Cuz War