That Morning

Subject: That Morning Fri Mar 12, 2010 9:52 am

I was watching a movie called The Ninth Gate one day (it's a very strange movie, but I would recommend it just for its strangeness) and there is a line from one of the characters that stuck in my head. "That morning I was awoken by the screaming of the maid. He had hanged himself." (this being in reference to the character's husband) The line mulled around in my head for a bit and one day I wrote half of the line at the top of a sheet of paper and half at the bottom, and this is what came out:

That morning I was awoken by the screaming of the maid.

The very woman who, for four years:

Washed the shame from vacant bedclothes while he was absent,

Ate the bitter chocolate he recovered from luggage only ever half unpacked,

Swept the jumble of dust and fractured glass when one too many was never enough,

Twisted her lips into an irreverent grin when the milkman arrived at eight (p.m.),

Placed her notes clumsily below the clock that was only wound when he was home,

Loved what I couldn't believe in over miles, dollar signs, and endless taxicabs,

Knew the fragile balance at play that lent her a premonition of what I couldn't fathom.

He had hanged himself.

Subject: Re: That Morning Fri Mar 12, 2010 10:38 pm

I've never heard of that movie until now.

I like the poem, though.

It was lovely in a depressing sort of way. *nods*