a whisper (swung rustily)

I feel compelled
to tell you
now
something of myself
and anna-maree

it was never clear
to me
why
I was chosen by her

for even then
I matched no mould

but I was so . . .
so very hungry
to be a part

to do
what others
could not
that I did not
question

and her

well
there were those
who
from the beginning
were dubious

but not I

not until
after

when the failures
began
to mount

and the betrayals
become clear

not until I
myself
had become the whisper
of pity
that drifted in
and out
of the cubicles
and offices

with a sympathetic few
hoping
for my deliverance

but even then
there was no
denouement

for bigger fish
than either she or I
were already moving
against her

and my small angst
was

nothing more than
the creaking sound
of a door swinging
rustily
to the tune
of a passing breeze

and so it ended
but
for a time
it was as though
if you can believe it . . .

as though we were
on top of the world
solving
and resolving

leading
and being followed

ah
why am I
telling you
all this

it was long ago

she
is likely dead
by now
even as I
was dead
for such a long time
after

but
all this talk
of waves
first
and second

and the sharpening
of knives
in the hallways and corridors
of power
have transported me

me
who had thought
to never visit there
again

this virus
has much
for which
to be accountable

~

7 thoughts on “a whisper (swung rustily)

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