In a cupboard
he opens often
he keeps a box
of resentment.
Something about
knowing it is there
makes him feel alive.
He touches the box
again and again,
lets the anger fill
whatever inside him
feels empty.
Hear it? Thumping
in him, pretending
it is a heart. It’s easy
to mistake.
As a a long-time fan of your poetry (which I’ve read over the years on A First Sip), I’m delighted now to discover your website. Stunning poem. Thank you.
Good Morning, Katrina, thanks for the nice comment. And thanks for reading the poems. Welcome!
Believing too strongly the story of Pandora, he’s been afraid to open that box all his life. Maybe. Thank you, Rosemerry!
That is perspicacious comment ⦠it helps me understand the boy the poem is about a bit more. Thanks, Deborah
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Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Tuesday, April 18, 2017 at 10:42 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Despite Birdsong”