Clocking In

Cherry

By EB

Sat, 03 Oct 2015
  • 4747 reads
13 comments
 

I brought her coffee in the mornings

on the weekends I was there

between the month-long business trips

that drained my energy -



but not the love. I phoned her every night, 

clocking the sadness of her distant voice, 

wishing she was gladder with her lot. 

Nice home, two dogs, three kids. 

And me, of course. Sometimes.



I took over - soon as I got home, and she 

rushed out, all silken hair and lashes flashing,

smiling that she didn't know 

if, or when she might be back. 



And when she fell in through the door, 

I cradled her weightless 

corpse upstairs, undid her dress, 

and flaked beside her breathless on the bed, 

glad I didn't have to ask the questions 

she'd avoid.



I didn't want, or need an answer. 

Tomorrow, I'd be gone again -

hanging on to hopes - ambition,

and phoning every evening.

Certificate 15
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

So honest, so sad, so simply and clearly written. There does seem some sort of deep caring love there, and a trusting love to some extent, but that can't (at present) meet, and a looking for excitement that won't satisfy. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by EB on

Very perceptive, Rhiannon. Thanks.

Submitted by VeraClark on

Beautiful simplicity worked in to this story. Particularly love the lines: cradled her weightless corpse upstairs, undid her dress... It feels very personal as though we are voyeurs to this intimate confession.

 

Submitted by EB on

Thanks Vera.

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

leaves me wanting to know what happened next, and with a great sadness for all of them

 

Submitted by EB on

Thanks insertp. I'll think about moving the story on.

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

A drifting sense of regret and empathy, light and heavy at the same time.

Submitted by EB on

Thanks Philip. I pleased it worked like that.

Submitted by Bee on

Says as much about her coping with the absence as his wishing things to remain the same on his return. It's in the past, and coloured with regret. 

Bee

Submitted by EB on

Thanks Bee.

Submitted by EB on

Thanks eds for the cherries. 

Submitted by love_writing on

You can feel the sadness from both sides of this EB...The last stanza in particular is heartbreaking, the distance forced by work creating distance in the relationship; hanging onto hopes. Thought provoking!

love_writing

Submitted by EB on

Many thanks love writing. Appreciated.