A Poem
Diego’s snipping reels in the corner,
His face turned away in eschew.
Agnes is punching stamps over her eyelids,
While I’m pleading for a forgotten past.
His smile is hidden under lock and key,
His mouth spitting gold-plated pleasantries.
And they’re all dazzling, rolling, talking heads,
Speaking to another set of eyes,
While my serenity’s in the dustbin.
I’m drawing lines on Diego’s face,
Slapping inveigled words across his ears,
Praying that one of them will dance.
Lena’s too busy sulking,
Curled in the corner like a dog.
But she’s the only one who speaks to me,
And she’s the only one I don’t want to hear.
So now I’m wandering from face to face,
While my serenity’s in the dustbin.
Something nags at me.
Something nags at Diego’s pupils,
Sucking his old grins out of him.
The group is speaking in tongues now,
Swaying back and forth,
Blocking me from their lovely path.
I squirm in the cracks, begging for attention,
But their faces are murky in the waters of disapproval.
I cobble together some messy piece of polite,
But the conversation doesn’t shift it’s gears,
And I’m left alone,
Staring at my serenity,
Which is sitting in the dustbin.
Aaron claims he understands me,
Shifting his weight on my shoulder.
But my brain’s too busy picking at those words
That slipped out of my mouth months ago.
So Aaron’s crawling towards my consciousness,
His face twisted and grotesque,
Turn of eyes seeping from his lungs,
And he’s shoving me,
Pushing me away from my serenity,
Which is sitting in the dustbin.
They’re all sitting around a dining room table,
Their eyes black
And their faces warped,
Deciding what to do with my skin.
I pretend I’m not there
While the dark red walls enclose around us,
Making my shoulders greet.
They snicker and they snarl,
Tearing at each other’s faces,
Before deciding to cast me into the dustbin,
Where I sit,
Surrounded by the broken pieces of my serenity.
Luke Nelson Art 