The Divorce

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Sometimes he thinks that he has seen it, plump

But in a dream he had so long ago

That history seems quite short to him, a dump

Forgotten long ago, a blackened snow

That devils drank with witches and forgot.

Sometimes he thinks the rupture came and went

Without him but his guts are in a knot.

The scene is like a sin men can’t repent.

It’s like a coma full of pain with dreams

He can’t erase because he never owned them,

Because they were not his despite the screams.

He reaches out, but Christ’s robe has no hem.

  A sleeplessness descended in his heart.

    The lingering marriage scars cannot depart.

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