Poetry

Apostrophe

JANE MUNRO

From Blue Sonoma. Published by Brick Books in 2014.  

So you come

stinking to high heaven

with all the foulness

of your worn-out stories—

je me souviens.

Bunions. Spittle. Squint.

You have yet to crack a smile,

your eyes wind tunnels.

And maybe you’re what I get—

the rush to destruction,

that whistling maw.

Eros exiled.

Bloody Time, you old cannibal

with your necklace of skulls.

By the scruff of your neck

I hoist you—toss you out.

Hose you down.

Drenched, you glitter.

Now,

in my arms,

in your nightgown,

you’re just an old woman—

frail, beset, bedraggled—

familiar as my kitchen.

How long for this world?

I reinsert you in the captain’s chair.

Across the table

we take each other in.

You tear off a chunk of baguette,

toss it my way.

Got your goat, eh?

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