The Shine Journal - The Light Left Behind

Journeys Through Grief and Beyond

 

 

 

 

This loneliness like an icicle in my eye

 

by

 

Melanie Browne

 

 

it drips, wet onto my soul-

 

leather shoes, it is not blood,

 

It cannot bleed me dry,

 

(anyway I hope it can't)

 

it won't melt completely,

 

and yet it never stops leaking,

 

at the store when I pay

 

for the tomatoes,

 

it drips on the floor,

 

when I go to a symphony

 

or even for a Sunday drive

 

I am forced to change my sweater,

 

waiting for the doctor

 

it splashes over an elderly ladies newspaper,

 

"excuse me" she says,and I move aside,

 

she wrinkles her nose and I see

 

I have soaked her obituaries,

 

The doctor says to

 

take it out of my eye

 

would be superfluous,

 

I look in the mirror,

 

at the loneliness like an

 

icicle in my eyes and I say

 

it over and over again,

 

"Superfluous,"

 

I meet him at the zoo,

 

we are both dripping icicles

 

outside a flamingo fence,

 

his icicle is bigger,

 

he has some in his ears too,

 

poking through like earrings,

 

"I love the Flamingos," I say

 

bending my knees in an awkward way,

 

unconsciously imitating the pink birds

 

"I do too," he says,

 

they are so superfluous

Contact Editor: Pamela Tyree Griffin

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