While waiting patiently
For another rebuke,
She plans dinner,
Thawing poultry,
Privately packing pain into poetry.
Upon arrival,
He feasts predictably
Upon her mind.
How productive this pastime has become,
Seeds of anxiety perpetually plowed
Into a fertile psyche,
Bud perennially into paranoia,
Keeping once opulent fields
Obedient and still,
The occasional weeds of opinion
Plucked then poisoned at the root.
Ripe growth pressed
Into a flatly laundered hush.

~ Roseann Geiger ~


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: