1995 was

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long sweaters, color of grey clouds

wet wool beneath leggings and Docs

the way rain stayed in your hair and rinsed it of color

how you kept every love letter ever written

by all the little freckled girls who chased your dragon

we lay in your narrow bed

too small but small was what we were

breaking every splinter

in our roar and our mocking

you implanted a life

the telephone gave the news

my grandmother had given up pretending

perhaps the devil helped her

take that final breath

I couldn’t get a train

the rain the rain

you felt the despair of a boy who liked

the fur of drama

not the feel of fatherhood

her funeral was for two

the woman who had held me and said

what a pretty baby

when the rest backed away

like spectators unwilling to touch

and then there was the fetus

dry like a winter flower

red like a sore lover’s thighs

white like virgin snow covering

a crime

and the smell of damp

invading every corner of your room

ransacking hope

leaving in its wake

Smashing Pumpkins on low

sheets frayed and stained with youth

I did not return

you did not ask

it was accepted like an envelope is sealed

and black birds begin their fight

long after night has cast

her dark

22 thoughts on “1995 was

  1. This… you do best:

    “the woman who had held me and said
    what a pretty baby
    when the rest backed away
    like spectators unwilling to touch
    and then there was the fetus
    dry like a winter flower
    red like a sore lover’s thighs
    white like virgin snow covering
    a crime
    and the smell of damp
    invading every corner of your room”

    Description with every ounce of pain. You work words definitely, Candice.

  2. Pain resonates on every line. Oh 1995, was 20 years together for Carole and I, it was the 12th year of her severe MS, we had 18 more years……………

  3. Just tried to write on your blog and epic fail because couldn’t remember my Google account details but I wrote; you said I was talented but bloody hell have you seen your own work? Just read your poetry it’s beyond brilliant. I want to write with you, you’ve got me all jumping around shouting positive things at the photo of you now 😉

  4. You are a master at moving readers through the delights & agonies of love & life. And you SO moved my heart with this poem . . . Thank you!

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