I’ve a friend who says, “Treat anything mechanical
as if it’s just about to break.”
I’ve a feeling broken-hearted
he’s talking about himself
in relation to his ex-wife,
but I don’t tell him that. She called me break the news
just before she left him. “Breaking up” was her phrase,
as if we were all broken promise still in grade school.
“I’m leaving,” she said, “For good.” I pictured him exactly
where I knew he was at the time—in mid-schuss
breakneck on a mogul-filled downhill in Vail.
He wouldn’t be back for two days, and had no idea
it would be to a broken home. And then,
no note, on the kitchen table or anywhere.
No red box on the wall: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY
BREAK GLASS.
Note to self: define instruction set and consider this poem as the basis for a writing challenge. Yes.
Source: rattle.com
Hello! I'm Jacob Sam-La Rose. I've been described as a poet, tech head, educator, and all round literary whirlwind. I do web, old cameras and good things with words. Thanks for stopping by. Again, soon?