knife clenched
in numb fingers
I carve vertical lines
into white plaster
that crumbles
to my touch
I notch each loss
deeply into
the walls
a makeshift
I long for neat
parallel lines
to honor the dead
but my hands

© 2020 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved


12 thoughts on “4,087

  1. Hands?
    Yours tremble?
    Mine shake
    Like glass
    Wants broken
    Into shards
    Crushed under foot
    To return to sand

    Unmelt me

    But first
    Pick a shard
    Of me
    To help carve
    so many…

    So many
    So many
    So many

    Wake me from my
    Nightly nightmare
    Screaming, I don’t
    Want it’s memory

    So many
    So many
    So many

    Pick my shard
    Off the ground
    And carve

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Numbers check… how many Americans have died during/because of republican presidents… 9/11… Afghanistan and Iraq invasions… now COVID 19… write a poem on that number…

        Liked by 1 person

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