Sunday, April 28, 2013

Red Routine


Red Routine

Red is the dawning sky at my arrival home
An hour sooner, the black of night, and
Dawn’s cherry-flavored, goodbye kiss
It smears my face and shirt with our shame
I’m tickled-pink from red wine and taboos
Blood flow, almost too toxic to function

Staggering through the reddish-blackness
To wipe away the ruby scandal
I pause, as a familiar fear speeds my heartbeat
I feel my wife’s eyes
Burning through me from our bed
As the dark room slowly reddens
Knowing she is pretending to be asleep
But also, knowing
Her breathing is not easy, like slumber
It is shallow, and rough, like red river rapids
And though I cannot see her flushed face
I know that she is raw and wounded

I can’t explain my weekly scarlet addiction
Any more than her capacity for enduring it
Yet we both continue our rose-colored roles
The sun always finds us in happily wedded bliss
But the dark-red shadows of pre-dawn witness
Our weekly lie, and each time, at that fervid moment,
Like a shameless phoenix rising from disgrace’s ashes
I am immolated on that very dark spot
By the vows I so brazenly incinerated
Consumed within her scarlet fire
Her quiet rage and seething humiliation
I slink away to clean dawn’s cherry stench
Before the rose filter falls from the room



1 comment:

  1. Heartbreaking and effective storytelling. I love the contrasting colors and smells.

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