I watched
shell shocked
as the photographs
of you
& I
become torn
scraps
scattered over your frock
like shelled peas
lying on your lap
images
of us
captured by the sun
return
to little bits
of nothing
(tears hide in my eyes
without falling) .
You stand
now the deed is done
like some
mythical Greek woman
brush the broken
bits of us
from you
scattered like confetti.
Your hand turns
the shiny doorknob
holding you
in reflection.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-banging-of-the-door/
