Three Years into Limbo (New rev 20.02.2012), 2 or 3 revs. *** (for crits) Options

[Psyche]

Thank you Snow, Steve, Wally, Dani, Lori and all for your enormous help.
I've just tweaked a few lines (put italics), so didn't copy & paste again.



REVISION

Three Years into Limbo

I was wrong.
Time is gentle with you.
Your mind sheds muddled memories.
Each day, you’re born again.
Conformist drill, primary needs,
hallucinations, mirth.

A broad smile greets me.
We hug - I'm your bride!
-What’s in t'bag?
-Cookies.
And peach juice. What joy!

-'Tis m'fiancée, B..b..ertha.
-Oh… I say.
Bertha stares vacuously.
You wave angular arms:
-M'wife lives 'nudder h..h..hotel!
Bertha articulates:
-Do come soon.
-Mmmm… I mumble.

Outside, pungent evening air
is a mocking lifesaver.
It’s Sunday. Families
stroll by with pushcarts,
cyclists whizz between lazy traffic,
the odd sparrow picks at garbage.

I feel lonely among the dog poop,
bicycles, sparrows.
Families irk me.
An ochre sky compresses my shoulders.

I hear kitty meowing as I
fiddle with keys in the lock.
She twines herself around my legs,
tripping me as I search for a cool
drink and our dinners.

My wits are awash in chaos:
my dreams dream you
on bygone illumined isles.

Limbo has dance-stepped over to my side
with sidling grotesquerie.

Poetry and plans are on hold…


20.02.2012 revs:
Conversations in italics.
S2, L5: Different.


Revs: S2, L5.
S3, L1

Sylvia Evelyn, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2010.



ORIGINAL

Three Years in to Limbo

I was wrong.
Time is gentle with you.
Your mind dumped merciless memories.
Each day, you’re born again.
Conformist drill, primary needs,
hallucinations, mirth.

A broad smile greets me.
You hug me like a bride.´
-What’s in that bag?
-Cookies.
… gobbling goodies.

-This is my fiancée, Bertha.
-Oh…I say.
Bertha stares inanely.
You wave your arms:
-My wife doesn’t live here.
Bertha articulates:
- Do come soon.
- Mmmm… I mumble.

Outside, pungent evening air
is a mocking lifesaver.
It’s Sunday. Families
stroll by with pushcarts,
cyclists whizz between lazy traffic,
the odd sparrow picks at garbage.

I feel lonely among the dog poop,
bicycles, sparrows.
Families irk me.
An ochre sky compresses my shoulders.
I hear kitty meowing as I
fiddle with keys in the lock.
She twines herself around my legs,
tripping me as I search for a cool
drink and our dinners.

My wits are awash in chaos:
my dreams dream you
on bygone illumined isles.

Limbo has dance-stepped over to my side
with sidling grotesquerie.
Poetry and plans are out…



Sylvia Evelyn, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2010.

[saore]

Slyvia this is very strong but most of all very honest! The image of the cat around the legs of the narrator almost made me scream, just so it wouldn't bother. I have had moments like this, when not even the affection of a pet matters.

Sergio