Backshed Brazen

Behind the backshed, a worrying malevolence stays hidden in the shadows, glimpsed as the suns ray’s penetrate through the rhetoric, shining a light on all our ‘if only’s’, for a few brief moments.

/

If only Brazen had decided to kneel, bow down to those ‘Miriams’ withholding the ink from the well, & lick the carbon-dated dust accumulating on their threadbare shoes – lament temporarily lost at any cost, for the pen-ultimate facade.

A facade?

Those imposters she once knew, with their apoplectic gesticulations still choose to play their cards like liars & thieves, a charade more likely, based upon contrived lines of which they steal unto her buxom bosom.

Miriam broke her heart!

/

Her most respected iconoclast smashed the gavel into her brain / her overseer’s donning cats!

Both burned into her retina, like a world map on her marble.

/

Brazen sits in the corner under her dunce cap.

Mothballed poetic justice, relegated to a mere diary of questionable truths.

But I know!

I know what went on behind the backshed – you!

The Miriams’ of this world, have a lot to answer for.

© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

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