In spite of promises, oaths
and the best of intentions
I stand but dumbly by
as the hours slip
and spiral out.
She lies on the bed and cries,
she tells me she is broken.
I understand
but don’t know what to do.
I suppose it’s like this
everywhere,
lives like landfills
of disappoints and regrets.
I too wish the days and the hours
were something more than this
gradual decline.
I wish the silent gods
would find new ways
for us to burn.
The day shrugs and gives
itself to the darkness
as I ignore the ringing
of the phone
on my way to the kitchen
in search of more wine.
Excellent poem.
lives like landfills….great image.
you’ve tapped into it
yes
things are rough all over
Will, for God’s sake, write a bad poem will ya! I get tired of sounding like some fawning old coot, always singing your praises!
drink up. write on!
[…] William Taylor Jr. … Lives Like Landfills […]
I always ignore the ringing of the phone. More wine.