Extinguished
Your light has been snuffed out
as a taper at the end
of the Christmas Eve service
(after “Silent Night”)
is too suddenly blown out
by a petulant teen
disgusted that his mother
dragged him here
in the first place.
Your music did not fade out
at the end of a lush chorus,
but, like a handbell,
was suddenly damped
by slamming it down hard
against the foam table
with clapper confined.
The romance is gone.
It smells like death,
slices of slimy roast beef
going green around the edges.
It tastes like a foul.
You are dead.
And all is rotten dark,
muffled like a forest
damped with snow,
silent,
still.
© 2012 Tess Lockhart. All rights reserved.
as a taper at the end
of the Christmas Eve service
(after “Silent Night”)
is too suddenly blown out
by a petulant teen
disgusted that his mother
dragged him here
in the first place.
Your music did not fade out
at the end of a lush chorus,
but, like a handbell,
was suddenly damped
by slamming it down hard
against the foam table
with clapper confined.
The romance is gone.
It smells like death,
slices of slimy roast beef
going green around the edges.
It tastes like a foul.
You are dead.
And all is rotten dark,
muffled like a forest
damped with snow,
silent,
still.
© 2012 Tess Lockhart. All rights reserved.
