December 2017
Donna Reis
freshpoetry@earthlink.net
freshpoetry@earthlink.net
I live in the Hudson Valley with my husband, musician and composer, Tom Miller. I'm happily retired from teaching Special Education, and spend my days doing what I love: writing, quilting and gardening. My debut poetry collection, No Passing Zone, was published in December, 2012 by Deerbrook Editions. Recently, my poems have appeared in OxMag, Evening Street Review and the e-zine, www.thefuriousgazelle.com. For more information please visit my website: www.donnareis.com.
Botched Job
You stock-piled the necessary tools,
planned it to a T,
made it seem spur of the moment,
but it was meant to spur me.
You planned it to a T,
cut your garden hose, grabbed your Ambien,
hoping to spur me.
No need for a farewell note.
With your garden hose and Ambien,
you had it all down pat.
No need to say goodbye,
you had your friend, whiskey, gin or rye.
You had it all down pat,
your own Greek tragedy. You weren't alone,
you had your friend whiskey, gin or rye.
You attached a hose to your exhaust pipe.
Your own Greek tragedy, you weren't alone.
I could easily have joined you,
as you attached a hose to the exhaust,
but I fought too hard to stay alive.
I could easily have joined you,
that's how miserable I was,
but I'd worked too hard to stay alive.
You lowered the seat and waited.
That's how miserable I was,
as you popped your Ambient and drank your gin,
then lowered your seat and waited.
I heard a car turn into the drive
As you popped your Ambient and gin,
in a busy Park & Ride in New Jersey.
I heard a car turn into the drive,
and was sure it was you.
A cop said, in a Park & Ride in NJ,
you attempted to take your life,
and I knew it was you.
He gave me directions to a hospital.
You attempted to take your life,
was all I heard, nothing else,
as he gave me directions to the hospital.
I drove through waves of ringing dark.
I didn't hear a word he said,
didn't know how I'd find you,
in waves of ringing darkness.
I lost my way for hours.
Didn't know how I'd find you,
till finally hospital lights shone.
I lost my way and it took hours.
You were semiconscious and thrashing.
Finally, the hospital lights shone,
I found you in a room alone.
You were semiconscious and thrashing.
I said all the right things.
I found you in a room alone,
I comforted it's only money,
I said all the right things,
how love would get us through.
I whispered it's only money,
but my voice fell flat on the floor.
I whispered love would get us through,
but I hated myself and I hated you.
My voice fell flat on the floor,
knowing my valiant effort was a disgrace.
I hated myself for lying and hated you--
it was then I knew.
Disgusted by, yet another, valiant effort,
I realized I was through.
It was then I knew:
our marriage was one breath from death.
I realized I was through,
made it seem spur of the moment.
Our marriage was one breath from death.
Those tools you stock-piled were your due.
Botched Job
You stock-piled the necessary tools,
planned it to a T,
made it seem spur of the moment,
but it was meant to spur me.
You planned it to a T,
cut your garden hose, grabbed your Ambien,
hoping to spur me.
No need for a farewell note.
With your garden hose and Ambien,
you had it all down pat.
No need to say goodbye,
you had your friend, whiskey, gin or rye.
You had it all down pat,
your own Greek tragedy. You weren't alone,
you had your friend whiskey, gin or rye.
You attached a hose to your exhaust pipe.
Your own Greek tragedy, you weren't alone.
I could easily have joined you,
as you attached a hose to the exhaust,
but I fought too hard to stay alive.
I could easily have joined you,
that's how miserable I was,
but I'd worked too hard to stay alive.
You lowered the seat and waited.
That's how miserable I was,
as you popped your Ambient and drank your gin,
then lowered your seat and waited.
I heard a car turn into the drive
As you popped your Ambient and gin,
in a busy Park & Ride in New Jersey.
I heard a car turn into the drive,
and was sure it was you.
A cop said, in a Park & Ride in NJ,
you attempted to take your life,
and I knew it was you.
He gave me directions to a hospital.
You attempted to take your life,
was all I heard, nothing else,
as he gave me directions to the hospital.
I drove through waves of ringing dark.
I didn't hear a word he said,
didn't know how I'd find you,
in waves of ringing darkness.
I lost my way for hours.
Didn't know how I'd find you,
till finally hospital lights shone.
I lost my way and it took hours.
You were semiconscious and thrashing.
Finally, the hospital lights shone,
I found you in a room alone.
You were semiconscious and thrashing.
I said all the right things.
I found you in a room alone,
I comforted it's only money,
I said all the right things,
how love would get us through.
I whispered it's only money,
but my voice fell flat on the floor.
I whispered love would get us through,
but I hated myself and I hated you.
My voice fell flat on the floor,
knowing my valiant effort was a disgrace.
I hated myself for lying and hated you--
it was then I knew.
Disgusted by, yet another, valiant effort,
I realized I was through.
It was then I knew:
our marriage was one breath from death.
I realized I was through,
made it seem spur of the moment.
Our marriage was one breath from death.
Those tools you stock-piled were your due.
©2017 Donna Reis
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