Wordle #243

243

A line of cocaine, a dribble of gasoline
I return to the source
atoms firing underneath my tongue.
In end we’re only stones.

The water is cold and clinical
I rinse my face, the images stilled.
What does it mean to be born?
The sky opens like a sluice.

I promise not to tell
if you promise never to speak
we’ve played this game before
a cycle as destructive as it is relentless.

I love the lilt of your smile
when you’re standing
threshold breached.
I unlace your cherries one by one.

What a mess, a sheaf of expletives,
a carefully edited conclusion.
Our unopened baggage swells and whines.
Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.

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4 responses to “Wordle #243

  1. I really love the 4th stanza – it’s such a wonderful idea … cherries, considering what has come before … the cocaine, the water …. and for as cliché as the last line may be, it really suits and is a firm and apt closure for this piece.

    Wonderful write Yves 🙂

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