My Ire


the days uncoil continuously

the earth proceeds forward

with a zest unheard of

a year since your death

or is it nine months?

five weeks, maybe.

or was it three days?

It was just last Saturday

you ordered the apple cider

for your Keurig.

I swallow a tepid cup of cider

and think

no match am I

for the days and the earth

not a great fit anymore

no choice but to bend

nicely to their will

be docile

enjoy the remaining days

and think

an august service

black lace

brown casket

the air cold and acidic

my ire

does not stop a thing

This is a response to Shawna’s Melting Monday prompt!  

16 thoughts on “My Ire

  1. Such a raw beauty to your words, Anne. Captures so well the feeling that life moves on, regardless of our emotional place, and how this is a blessing and a curse at the same time. Thank you for your amazing words and images.

  2. Um, totally awesome! I’m so glad you accepted the challenge. I’m thoroughly impressed with your writing, as always.

    These are my favorites:

    “a year since your death
    or is it nine months?
    five weeks, maybe.”

    “no match am I
    for the days and the earth”

    “black lace
    brown casket” … the slightest contrast in color, still noticed; on a day like this, all you can process are the most insignificant of details

    This is a very strong ending:
    “my ire
    does not stop a thing”

    I am always weakest at the end. It usually ruins my poems.

    Thanks for linking! Although, come to think of it, your link didn’t work. Shall I fix it for you?

  3. This is a well-expressed poem with a very strident, natural progression. For me, this poem is about the difference hot apple cider and tepid apple cider. One is a shared experience, the other, a singularity. We can subsist on the singularity, but without joy. A great echo in the “the air cold and acidic.” Solid work, Anne Katherine.

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