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The
Enabler
by
Melanie Houle
People
have their reasons,
you would tell
me,
though you never
seemed to tell
me yours.
Instead, you lit
the room with
repartee,
the air around
you glistening
with words.
I heard, I saw
my life with you
would be
a cage of gilded
adjectives and
verbs,
no space for questioning,
no place for doubt,
but still I stayed
to decorate the
walls
your eloquence
devised to keep
me out,
and read the handwriting
upon them all.
Afraid I had no
voice, I made
it so,
and so I smiled,
without the will
to stop
sitting silent
at your feet in
limbo,
waiting for the
fatal words to
drop.
©
2007 by Melanie
Houle
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About the Author
Melanie
Houle
is a physician
and former jeweler.
She is a Pushcart
Prize nominee
and The Raintown
Review's first
featured poet
. Her poetry also
appears in The
Lyric, California
Quarterly, The
Aurorean, Neovictorian/
Cochlea, Tigerâ's
Eye, Mobius, Pearl,
Barefoot Muse,
The HyperTexts,
Journal of the
American Medical
Association and
others. |
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