The Handyman

The Handyman short poem

Photo by col_adamson


His love for his wife was a broken apparatus
he tinkered with it at night after she went to bed
gliding to her dark red room alone or
if she miscalculated the dosage of her medicine
with his help and then his love sparked
here was real use for his strength and sympathy
laying her back on the cool satin coverlet
a bruisy shade of purple pulling off her shoes
glancing up under her skirt like a shy boy uncertain
of what he might find but understanding
he had lost all rights for exploration and salvage
and that no answers were hidden there
he would return to the kitchen table
pin his love down under stray bits of tidying up
that had roamed free all day corralled it
in house trash measured it against his memory
checked the action of its limbs and finding no hints
sniffed it and held a fragment against his tongue
hoping for a shock or a sting but tasting only bitter

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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