Tuesday, November 16, 2004

The Tale of the Skeletons in the Closet

The princess and I poised upright on our heaths, but deep in our breast what lies underneath?
-dark secrets and sorrow and ill memories wrapped. This; all regrets and misgivings: trapped.
I, the stunned Prince stand a little on edge, at an 80 degree angle upon that there ledge. My stomach is turning from lies I have said, from vulgar words and wrong actions and the life I have led. I, not a king but a man with some pain, have filed it away to cover the stain. Though what may leak through when there comes the hard rains? I know not, I must speak, here comes my word:

i have skeletons in my closet
i just checked on them yesterday,
they were still there.
piling up. Just staying there.
sounding like quiet

they don't move. What happens to them my dear knight?

knight: they have to decay.

there's no other way to get rid of them?
I have lived with them now so long.
There is no way to just make them gone?
They are always the kind of guest you don't want to let your friends meet.
though maybe you should, perhaps if you could,
because you never invited them, but you let them in.

there are no skeletons. none but underground. can we not leave them, where they were found? of course, there are some in my closet as well. of course, but what of them?

why don't they scare you? isn't it crass? should we continue with snakes in our grass? Or should we be taken by madness or lust, corrupted by past things, hardened like crust?

they are not snakes and you are not free. these are the past things, but lasting to be. you can confront them. you know you will, but what you must do now is swallow the pill.

If only it were so.
For weeks I ignored them.
No one said anything.
i couldn't talk.
i thought they would be angry. but the pill the pill,-
what i can't swallow is that these are my own ills.
perhaps i should engage them directly.
after all, they were conceived by my will, I grant.

and they are filled with human weakness, by us infused. it is bad hosting for them to refuse. you must dress them nicely, and show them out. perhaps they will change what they're all about.

now I tire and this story has weighted my fingers. lethargy makes my point saunter and linger. i feel old and decayed, like the skeletons in my closet. maybe in thought i can make one deposit: may the skeletons not haunt me tonight. i will be fearless.

i'll sleep with my skeletons. they too could use the rest

generously you will greet them in your temporary death

then i can soften their bones, as sleep wisks away their brittleness

you help us by making the skeletons gentle in our minds. they are faded blurry images of the pins and needles now blunted. with time washing like a flurry of forgetfulness, the night crosses its arms. goodnight sweet princess, we will close our eyes, and let the skeletons sleep.

and so, the skeletons curl up in their bed, the Prince and the Princess lie with their dead. the skeletons unnoticed in the dark and the din, though they had lived with them when they came in. i now watch post and close the closet door. what's to be seen can be nothing more.


Blogger The Lioness said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:37 p.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Who Links Here