An operation of Promise
Mechanically managed
A mighty whale
It oozes
Lying on the beach
We sit together
Silent
Death sits between us
Laughing
We move in sync
Robotic
All smiles and teeth
Death sits behind your eyes
The hearth is cold
Though timber is abundant
No kindling is near
Death sits between us
All health and good cheer
This poem is about marriage. It is the end and no one is game to raise the inevitable. Romance is gone, change is desperately desired by both parties. It is no longer a vibrant living thing. The imagery is of a rotting whale carcass on a beach, it represents the marriage of 2 people who aren’t ready to admit that it’s over. It’s just a slowly rotting thing. It feels offensive and bloated. But no one knows how to be rid of it because of the enormity of it. It therefore will slowly continue to disintegrate until there is nothing left all. Sometimes you just need an external voice to help you realise that it’s over.
Little Wren 
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