If only I could open my mouth
And for once not regret
The words that spilled out
And escaped
Better would have been to
Even though not proved wrong
Eat my words
Chew them over and swallow
Never to break forth
Erupt
Destructive as any volcano
Where was my wit
Sparkling intellect run dry
Or washed away
Did drowning cause the sorrows
It’s not like this with anyone else
But the words did escape
And you laughed at my confession
Turned away
And left me to mourn
What was said
Thoughts on leaving teaching
14 years ago
2 comments:
I really wish there'd been just one tiny bit of description to ground this image in reality. Where the conversation had taken place, for example - even if it was just a hand placed on the corner of a table, or as she turned away the view behind her, or even something as banal as the colour of her hair, because that would have given it a lot more integrity, for me anyway. I thought it was really lovely.
Ah, you make a very good point. As you say, there is absolutely nothing in there to 'ground' the poem. Strange how sometimes you don't notice something so obvious in your own work. I guess it's because for me the poem is very heavily rooted in a particular time and place
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