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Saturday, October 30, 2010

Death By Blancmange

Death By Blancmange

Like Judas with a kiss,
She brought me tea and biscuits;
Darjeeling and Earl Grey
Said all there was to say.
This gift told me we were through.

The quarrel was so horrifying,
In silence that was agonizing,
Pregnant with a paralyzing love.
We clawed for words in desperation,
Marked by frequent hesitation,
Punctuated by a sense of dread.

The theatre was stimulating,
Like cocaine and hyperventilating,
So we sent out for kindney pie nonetheless
Being civilized to our planned schedule
Despite the press of overwhelming stress.

Like the quick rip of a bandage,
Vanilla Wafers did the talking;
Ginger Snaps were terser than our row.
So her heartstrings slipped the bow,
Going free when colored paper tore.

Fatal moments conspired to make a difference,
While I gripped a river to come sooner,
But she couldn't tell that I held onto her.
A scalpel instant seered decisive resignation,
But faith means hoping something has to work.

After dinner in the dark,
That funereal meeting in the park,
The second-hand pounded nails to make offence
The notion dreary that I couldn't entertain with her:
That she replaced herself with some crumbs and quince.

Like Judas with a kiss,
She brought me tea and biscuits;
Darjeeling and Earl Grey
Said all there was to say.
This gift told me we were through.

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