The Removal Men

these days I often just write for myself...

a foetal child

squatting under a big-flower-print

wallpaper; torn and dirty ;

to be carried out like a sack of coal,

bald carpets full of footsteps

dusty chairs to be shifted down

overpainted stairs;

windows cold with house wind.

the last bottle of milk

sour as the day is full of nails.

this a house full of sudden space

half a life waiting on a wet lawn.

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

A very dark and sad poem. givings me the feeling of abandonment and death, a house now empty of the family that once lived there. Outstanding poem!

[Mockingbird]

what bleak imagery...makes me wonder how you were feeling when you wrote this. i do believe poetry is ultimately written for ourselves that the meaning is ours alone. very cryptic too. excellent job.

[Emily B]

almost as if you've been peeking through my cobwebs and skeletons

brilliant poetry