another old poem

At partings I have seen
People hurl epithets, or cry, or scream,
Or sometimes smoulder slowly
Powering through each day on deep resentment.

"How stupid", I said.
"How childish. When it's over,
When you have lived so many years of your lives together
Can you not, at least, be friends?"

My turn, now.
The bloodless sundering I sought has
Been achieved.

How's it going?   Just fine! (I wish that I could feel.)
How do ya feel?   Not bad. (I wish I could feel.)

Mind set
Mind get
Bastard, or king
Simply silly whimpering,
Who knows?

Who goes there?
It's only me

(I think).


© 1978, 2010. Michael Bruce-Lockhart. All rights reserved. May not be reproduced without the author's permission.