Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #12
My Wife Kissed Me
by Belinda Roddie
My wife kissed me good night and went to work
with white florescent lamps above her head.
She'd wear a mask and blood specks on her shirt
as she tried to re-animate the dead.
The brittle bone would snap in her hands. She
would squeal in sharp exasperation when
the heart would not beat. The tongue would not scream
obscenities once body breathed again.
Then one cold summer, stained with weariness,
my wife lit up the eyes of a young girl
who grew frightened and quivered in protest
of being brought back to the scary world.
My wife kissed me good night. Her hot lips burned.
She's with her daughter and has not returned.
by Belinda Roddie
My wife kissed me good night and went to work
with white florescent lamps above her head.
She'd wear a mask and blood specks on her shirt
as she tried to re-animate the dead.
The brittle bone would snap in her hands. She
would squeal in sharp exasperation when
the heart would not beat. The tongue would not scream
obscenities once body breathed again.
Then one cold summer, stained with weariness,
my wife lit up the eyes of a young girl
who grew frightened and quivered in protest
of being brought back to the scary world.
My wife kissed me good night. Her hot lips burned.
She's with her daughter and has not returned.
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