Because sometimes the sadness is tucked into so many crevices of life, and just the running of fingers along a windowsill or a glance at clouds can trigger the heaviness of it all, because there are so many moments of joy and so many beautiful things in the world like leaves falling from a tree and the un-blueness of sky and rain, because there is cold that is deep and dark and treacherous, because there is warmth that is undying and invisible and light, because there are places you have never yet seen and feelings you have never yet experienced, because there is sadness and then there is touch, because there is love, because there is light.
October 15, 2015
Frankie teardrop/Twenty year old Frankie/He’s married he’s got a kid/And he’s working in a factory
He’s working from seven to five/He’s just trying to survive/Well lets hear it for Frankie
Well Frankie can’t make it/’Cause things are just too hard/Frankie can’t make enough money/Frankie can’t buy enough food
And Frankie’s getting evicted/Oh let’s hear it for Frankie
Frankie is so desperate/He’s gonna kill his wife and kids/Frankie’s gonna kill his kid/Frankie picked up a gun
Pointed at the six month old in the crib/Oh Frankie/Frankie looked at his wife
Shot her/”Oh what have I done?”/Let’s hear it for Frankie
Frankie teardrop/Frankie put the gun to his head/Frankie’s dead
Frankie’s lying in hell
We’re all Frankies
We’re all lying in hell
– selected by Nicholas Rhys.
#VERYSCARY: For the month of October, we are featuring your favorite scary passages, lines from poems, horror lyrics, creepy writings, etc. Send your favorite to email@example.com.
Poem for the End of the World
At the end, I expected
to find you dazzling and bright
before me, brushing your teeth
at the bathroom sink,
or carrying an armload
of groceries for one last
special breakfast, your desire
for forgiveness between us.
Instead, I got up, put on
a pot of coffee and listened
to the pops and creaks
of an empty house
and I too am that skeleton,
split, divided, stripped
of all but the essentials.
I sat on a box,
the only furniture left
from our former life here,
and drank, waited.
Brandi L. Perry holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the University of South Carolina. Her first collection of poetry, Sometimes I Cut Paper Dolls Instead of Myself, is forthcoming from Unbound Content.