Residue

© Residue

Beats of familiarity closed the door and

Set the stage for catastrophe;

A harsh quietness from his lips filled the room,

And she watched the road slip away from the map.

His sails remained hoisted and rippling,

As though he was a new ship in an old sea, but

She waited for the muzzle to be loosened from

The jaws of the man who no longer desired her.

Controversy labored like a martyr

Chipping away at skin as thin as white-wash paint;

Her glass was left half full, tears of wine next to it, and

Her love held on as tightly as a wrinkle in linen.

A cold, engraved slab of marble,

As cold as the man who spilled like a puddle

Of heartlessness, could never tell the story

As honestly as a patched hot-air balloon.

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

(The Paradox of Confession, 2012, oil on linen, by Matthew Hindley)