Silver rings wound round
two fingers, tightness lingers,
after many bobs
up and down;
our marriage is
a merry-go-round.
Laughter out on the town, then
the yelling just gets louder,
and the caking,
make-up powder
dries too soon;
hope it masks
the exit wound.
This poem was written for d’Verse’s MondayQuadrille. Tonight, Lillian asks us to consider, What’s in a word? crafting a 44-word poem using the word wound for inspiration. Join us.
Artwork: “Merry-go-round II” by Fabrice Hünd
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