Army Of You

Poem By Suzanne Louise Bishop

When you are gone, which is most of the time,
I buy a pack of jelly babies and give each one your name,
Each and all the same, an army of you.
Their soft insides yield to my hot touch, melt like you used to,
Sometimes I rip their heads off, skewer them on a pencil,
Imagine I was a voodoo lady and that you felt my pain.
Mostly though I hoard them in jars, rebuke those with
A sweet tooth. The child in me seeing pastel coloured gems,
Their smiles are mine. There they grow grey, old and hard,
Break my teeth and repay my love with grief.
So when I croak and cry, and try to soften their rock bodies
With my salt tears, they become the realisation
Of all my fears.

Comments about Army Of You

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of BISHOP

The Forecast

You told me, said the snow is coming.
Eskimos have over 50 words for it.
Snowflakes with their unique symbols,
Never the same. This won’t happen again.

Reservation For One

This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.

From The Mouth Of Horace

If you don’t hear from me assume I am gone
I’ve taken the city because I’ve lived here too long
I’m walking down Main Street in the wetness of night
Because I don’t want its cars or its halogen lights

The Service

The vicar was dead.
His son came instead,
Put on his midnight cape and
Stalked the pews, his fudge voice

Ode To Winter

You always had an overlooked approach,
Your ships armada of billowing cloud sails,
Into my crisp yellow nights, stealing colours,
So we wake to find the trees standing naked,