I wrote this one for JD Mader’s 2minutesgo writing exercise on his website, Unemployed Imagination. Head over there to read stories and poems, comment or write your own. Write whatever you like. It’s open every weekend. Cheers
The caretaker
We watch
the carriers of the night,
darkness
roused inside, the crow’s carrion,
life’s
raw supper stewed between oceans;
a depth unquantified.
We lie in stupor.
The bulbs
need fixing here. Still glass
shapes
itself into phantoms dusted out
over walls
of empty play. They draw murals,
the
children, running paint til it slides
into something
recognisable, ardent colour.
It enriches;
a sustenance to enliven grey.
Rain
races down this labyrinthine brick,
narrow
footways twist like knotted hair.
He carries
his anxieties tight-wound, a ball
of wool,
each strand intangible in the pack.
We watch
the night steal away each light,
switching
it off, the last caretaker of the world.
Humbly, he
never says a word, false or true.
His heart
lies heavy, but he never lets it speak.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, January 16, 2021
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