Friday, February 10, 2012

ashes, ashes

chestnut curls drift
in lazy whorls
to the floor
time itself
to touch her

but hair will grow
again not knowing
how relentless
is this blade

   clothes torn
   hair shorn
   nothing left
   to cut

reluctant fingers
relax their hold
cold clunk
of steel on counter


she turns
from the mirror
seeing nothing
hearing nothing
feeling blessed nothing
near the surface in this moment
but the urgency of ashes

   there must be
   something here
   to burn

reworked from 2006 version

Linking up to dVerse ~ Poet's Pub Open Link night.


The Tame Lion said...


Jennifer Jackson said...

Exceptional. I only wish you posted more often.

Brian Miller said...

ugh the pain of loss is so real in your words...the tearing of clothes and hair, the angst...nice...real...

Pat Hatt said...

Very well done, can feel the loss throughout your verse.

Claudia said...

this made my stomach hurt because the pain just screamed from the page..great job in capturing the angst..

Jebbi said...

such depth of heart beats in each your visual talent! You too..have a new follower!

Semaphore said...

The most effective part of this poem is the "ashes" litany, which acts as a refrain and drives the story to its suggestive, inflammatory, conclusion.

Jennifer Jackson said...

I am not surprised you are branching out into other forms of writing. Many end up doing it. I don't know how many go from writing novels to poetry but I know many switch from poetry to other things while still working on poems.