Curtain Fall

The streets are crowded, good intent –
but word twist, that screw turn of phrase,
leaves gaping potholes in the plan,
pavement battle, asphalt uncurbed.

I plunge into the kitchen sink –
this drama, act two, past the gate,
soft hand-soap clears the city dirt,
but not the dig hurt, outside grid.

My simmer watching boiling pot –
mash brewing monologue of thought,
bubbles from nowhere streaming out,
they escape, but I nurture heat.

I know that I can close the scene –
resentment shouts me, keep it long,
the curtain-down must sometime come,
but not while I can smoulder, burn.

Will it be flowers or chocolate box –
though neither fox will truly bring;
his tiptoe tells try working out
a strategy, gym somersaults.

How far before I should call time –
not yet I feel, his first to move.
A cup of tea? The usual plot,
as though the pot will steel the show.

In silence he assumes a mug –
a sweeter mood will change the facts.
Then dregs remind me future leaves
are in my hands; decide; sigh; smile.

Published by Academy of the Heart and Mind, 8th February 2021

https://academyoftheheartandmind.wordpress.com/2021/02/08/sacrosanct-and-other-poems/