Carl Newlen

Crystal Vase

- July 10, 2009, 3:28 pm | Sum Poems

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It is morning, two days
since you came back to show me
the cuts crossing your wrists -
pink now, and you cursing
your ex-husband`s
"god-damned dull razor."

You could finally leave him that way,
maybe, but I still see your bruised
and dead-beaten body rising,
looking for a way to love him again.

When you were here I wanted to say,
though I am alone, I am not restless.
My life is in slow progress.
All of the reflections I see
are of me - when I walk
no one touches my shadow.

And the days with you
were like living inside
the sounds of sirens,
when nothing can stop it, except . . .
No, when nothing can stop it.

I have been thinking
how the thorns of a rose
do not grow from inside
the stem, so thanks
for the flower you left me.

At the table I watch,
through the crack
in the crystal vase,
beads of new water bleeding
onto the black plate.

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