Poem: Again, by Brent Rouleau

When reached by phone
Your face proclaimed
That haunted look—the one
Which has become the rule
Rather than
The exception now—the one
Which hangs so permissively on your features—the one
Which has subtracted your once noble façade,
The curves and minute indentations
Which made your beauty formidable.
I can sense this immediately
From the low quiver in your voice, the
Resignation dripping and eroding
Cruel avenues down your ashen cheeks.
Don’t reach for another pill, I ache to shout
But I know, I know, you’ll fire down 4 or 5
Of the Ocean blue ones the moment we
disconnect
And then you’ll
Secure their safe passage with two
Welcome swallows of ice cold gin
Without a faint flutter of your whispergold lashes.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest