Icicles

It sits on the table. Its dried needles adorned with tinsel. Icicles hanging over a red bow tied round a purple vase.

The tinsel that clogs the vacuum. Makes the dog bark when its stuck in her jaw.

Its been a while. Since that Christmas.

The one we neglected to make special. Take photos of. Buy adorable presents for.

Of course that was the Christmas a runaway log from a semi tore her f*****g face off. Drove off and left her for dead in the snow.

The sheriff made sure I knew.

She is dead.

I saw the icy sludge of red snow and then I knew for sure.

She is dead.

The dog knows as well.

She is dead.

Her mother bought the tree for us.

With her being gone as well, I save it as a sort of shrine.

It does nothing for me.

Still tangled in the dogs jaw.

Still clogs the vacuum.

It will never bring her back.

I still want to tear the f*****g face off the driver held in a luxury prison cell.

She is still dead.

The icicles still hang.



.

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

Revenge is always the first thing that comes to mind when something terrible, dreadful hits and smacks you in the face. This whole episode is horrific and seems to have had a lasting effect upon this person. Every Christmas is the same unhappy event, and has been since the death of this loved one, in a unimaginable accident. Numbness has set in, and no movement, stillness, anger.
Thank you for sharing.
Best, B.

[Ranger Kessel]

Thank you for the kind words

[Betty Hermelee]

You're very welcome!

[Eilis]

Your poem reminds of the importance of treasuring every moment we have—even those that feel arduous or unnecessary. The memory of not having made an effort with the holiday feels so significant in the context of the story. It follows so closely as time moves on and, as a reader, I find the most pain in that space of things unfulfilled where we’d like the opportunity to return and do them the way we think would be worthy. We never know what is coming. Your poem makes that hardship so clear. The before and the after linger with us. And we are never the same. This is a very moving poem.

[Ranger Kessel]

Thank you for the kind words

[Bryan Sefton]

This is pain the like of which I've never experienced. My heart goes out to you.

[Ranger Kessel]

Thank you for the kind words

[Chris Shaw]

A tragedy for sure. After that how can Christmas ever bring joy. A continuing reminder of pain for theiss and anger fir the one responsible. I felt the emotions here deeply.

Chris

[Ranger Kessel]

Thank you for the kind words