Page 33 - Labyrinth--Suburban Stardust

You stand here looking at me I stand here looking at you There is simply, absolutely, Nothing that I can do
My wife and I have gone and fled away Been below the grass for many days Looking back, I knew what killed us was the power
Of that whitest, purest flour
Flour she first found at her brother’s party That made her laugh, smooth and hearty Once we left, she assured me that
She would never use it again
But unknown to me, she went in the street And bought the stuff from dirty men Every time I caught her with,
The flour, she said she would quit then But soon I saw money for taxes, mortgage, groceries
Drained away to her addiction
Soon I started to notice that
She fidgeted and screamed at things that weren’t there.
She clawed, contracted and pierced her skin
Streaking blood through her auburn hair. Nights that had been so tranquil before Were filled with crying, shouting galore. She would not eat, she would not drink, Her teeth turned brown and sour
But through all terrible permutation
She refused to give up her flour.
This went on for many days, weeks and months
More money lost than could tell
I prayed and pleaded for her to stop,
But the flour had ensnared her in its spell I debated whether or not to speak
Tell someone of my wife’s horrid vice
But I, the spineless coward that I am, Could not bring myself to ask someone’s advice
I wish to God I was brave enough
To have told someone as I had planned
For when I came home I saw her on the floor
With the pipe still clutched firmly in her hand
I collapsed on the floor next to her,
A porcelain doll, prime to break
But no matter how much I whispered and caressed,
I knew she would never awake
After the funeral came and went,
I could not accept that she was gone
For in every corner, every wall
Her beautiful, perfect face I saw
With pursed lips, cracked and dry Whispering I was the one who’d let her die Her words filled my waking hours
Her whispers haunted me through sleep- less nights
No matter what I did or where I went
She followed me, strangled me, a knotted, twisted kite
This went on for many days
Until, one day I could bear the guilt no more
So I called my friends and said goodbye And quietly locked the bathroom door
It was that day, October the 3rd,
That I jumped off of that chair
And relinquished myself to be with my wife
Legs dangling shriveled in the air
And now we sit together now
Our gravestones cracked and scoured With the knowledge this all started with this vile
Despicable, toxic flour
Poet: Peter Gordan