This is for the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. I might write a second poem. I like these words.
OPEN| ROCK| RING | ACT | LETTER
The final act,
your letter falls on the mat,
no ringing bells or madly blaring sirens,
just a dull swish,
like the dangling rope cut,
swinging in the wind.
Hands tremble too much to open neatly,
white envelope paper ripped across,
the inked, deadly precise letters, a massacre.
I skim the words,
as if the lightness of the glance gives them less weight,
no time to stick their full import on reluctant retinas.
I skim, slide, eyes glide,
avoid the harsh black-on-white truth.
the words shout though I close my eyes.
Skim, I say—
the stone bounces,
once, twice, thrice,
and hope drops,
sinks out of sight,
into the darkness,
where fall and fade,
all lovers’ broken hearts.