Maintenance Man

Your breathing rakes leaves of air
into a green metal scratching sound on concrete.
Rattling inside you is a steady oscillating tool, loose screw.
Or perhaps you are mopping
the flooding blood. Damn kids,
you mumble through a dream, plugging the faucets again,
the pipes, my lungs.

I watch your nightly maintenance – sighing, snoring. Deep hums
that snake your body, unclogging
the daily disappointment of being alive.
I want to unscrew your mouth, fix the dripping sounds
but when I get too close, I brush into bones
strung around your perimeter like trip wire.

This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Maintenance Man

  1. Oh. Oh. OH, Rach. This is gutting and powerful – the last three lines are especially palpable and devastating.


    L, C xo

    • rachvb says:

      Oh thank you, Claire. It’s wonderful to see you slowly wandering back. I hope you had the space and peace you needed. This is a crazy world we’ve leaped into. I wish I had the time and fortitude to be away so long. =)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Valid XHTML Strict and CSS