Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Hot and Cold

Hot and Cold

It is hot and cold
each moment switches up
hot anger cold shoulder
yelling that isn't yelling
yelling that is yelling
depends upon the speaker
and the one who is hearing

It is crochet
the pick ups the skips the drops
the interweaving of communication
that can become a beautiful piece
or something impossible to unravel

I know it is my responsibility
to make it work but work it is
hugely demanding hugely difficult
when there is no longer reason
though there never was
it was always about who was right
it was always about he was right

He holds onto right with clenched fists
while he hasn't a clue from minute to minute
as to what he has done or not done
as to what I have done or not done
what day it is what time it is what plans
have come undone in this craziness

I sometimes feel I am unraveling
but I buck up for what would that get me
or us except more lost and lost is not good
yet it has gotten bad enough suddenly that
I fear for each moment what might transpire

He threatens leaving by walking out the door
that could come to no good and terrifies me
he won't let me console him pushes me away
sleeps on the couch until I wake him and take
him to bed who is melting down rapidly
after years of a gentle decline he dropped off a cliff

1 comment:

  1. This poem expresses what it is like so well. You put the reader there in your shoes. Tragic and worrisome.