Night is no place for a woman

A month or so ago I tried to write a poem for the Jane Lumley Prize that Hermaneutic Chaos was running. I very much enjoy the poetry published there, but have never written anything even remotely close to the style. So, after reading several months worth of their publications, I got inspired – I wrote this. While I didn’t end up submitting it (I don’t think it’s near ready enough) I am still proud of the outcome, and hope I can work on it until it is publishable.

 

Night is no place for a woman

whisper comfort into my breast
and steal upon me like the night full of daggers
splitting warm flesh
a coffin
and I am made to stay

I turn aside the cigarette butt
of what you once were
ashen hair with an eyeful of addiction
baby of the morning hue
your spines still stick
to the tender parts of my heart

I walk through the gallows where my family hung
their portraits on the nooses and the long wooden necks
I wasn’t chosen, but I wasn’t left behind
I was just simply forgot

days turn to hours while the seconds crawl up the wall
and gather on the ceiling where the smoke stain laughs
at the pity clogging my heart
you were not a savior
but I thought, in those eyes

of blue and black I had found more than just a bruise
of a wound that was forgotten
you left with the sun
and I stayed behind

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