Her hand clenched up like a dead spider
tangled up in its own web –
for once the fly was the predator
and the spider was the grub.
His eyes rolled up like red snooker balls
and rested in the sockets –
carefully struck by the white cue ball
triggered like a white bullet.
His skull shattered like the red-wine glass
that fell from her spider hand –
fragments of his skull mixed with the glass
and the wine mixed with the blood.
She was as pale as a geisha
after I dragged her upstairs –
I let her think about her actions
under the bathtub water.
My feet never touched the ground again,
just cha-cha-chaed in the air –
you might think I was playing hangman,
trying to spell out ‘affair’.
Nathan Bednarek 2008.
Comments
Bradene | December 30, 2008 - 13:46
This is a dark yet clever write Nathan many layered I think. The one that springs immediately to my mind is so sad and angry. Well written Val x
Nathan Bednarek | December 30, 2008 - 13:49
Thanks a lot Val. It's nice to hear from you.
Yes, this is a dark poem- inspired by something dark. Unfortunately, as I said in the teaser, this comes true way too often.
Nathan.
MistakenMagic | December 30, 2008 - 19:07
Wow congrats on the recent cherries Nathan! This is an absolutely chilling tale - and one well told!
Magic xxx
Nathan Bednarek | December 30, 2008 - 19:14
Thanks Magic. I'm actually very proud of this piece because it came together beautifully (and I mean this in a humble and non-cocky way) ;-P
Thanks for your comment.
Nathan.
MistakenMagic | December 31, 2008 - 14:23
No I understand what you mean! It's like when a plan comes together :) And this one certainly did!
Magic xxx
threeleafshamrock | January 9, 2009 - 20:07
Wow, I like this! Like Hitchcock condensed; I can almost feel the shock and hear the background music, great stuff.
Chris
Nathan Bednarek | January 9, 2009 - 21:53
Thanks a lot for your comment, I appreciate it.