Deadlock

crowlegs

I’ve mapped the stars through inversion

The reflection of a deadlocked pool

Superficially favoring a change of course

*

This love accumulating over time

Has grown exponentially more exhausting

I suffer from neither contrition nor objection

Only the unshakeable conviction

That “I” as the subject have died

*

So much of your heart remains uninhabited

Immaculate white rooms with no juxtaposition

We sleep with our backs facing, crepuscular eyes

Seeking truce in a bilateral quarantine

*

I find you in the belly of false stones

Unable to extract a single door or window

From your departure, the fireplace

Winks knowingly from across the room,

There is no heat left in her body,

Only hypotheticals

34 responses to “Deadlock

  1. I find the thought of an uninhabited heart disturbing. It’s what you are saying about the persona that is scary, and then how pathetic a vision of a person that then is. I found this disturbing Yves, and I guess one would hope a person who was lacking heart would soon find ways to fill that void. You had me thinking with this one.

  2. Pingback: Screw You (Prose) | Ramblings From A Mum·

  3. We sleep with our backs facing, crepuscular eyes
    Seeking truce in a bilateral quarantine
    I find you in the belly of false stones

    such an inspired passage in a brilliantly disturbing poem,
    thankfully i’m not there now, but i’ve known this ‘place’.

  4. Potent, dark, evocative….especially moved by “There is no heat left in her body,/ Only hypotheticals.” I think it resonated with the dancer, as well as the woman, in me. Thank you for your work.

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