Deep and Hungry Pockets

Inspired by a line from an old friend that all she wanted in this life was "deeper pockets for memories", this work expresses frustration at a cold and hostile world for the romantique. Don't worry, it was just a phase and such works from him are usually just a venting to keep from being overwhelmed during such times (finding out a trusted lover was lying, not only to him but about him, to friends) as burns the soul of one who chersishes with such utter disregard for his own defenses and safety of soul and heart.

Deep and Hungry Pockets

I am lost.
lost to the light, to the night.
white on white is my banner of war,
boring plainsong to a tuneless drumming,
humming like an indifferent hive
of stingless bees, high in the trees
above the patient earth,
worth little when the honey runs dry.
and I
need to pull the knife out of my back
and get a life where my knack
for giving more than I get
is welcomed with more than
deep and hungry pockets.
all used up
and the cup is less than half full now.
a vow of unbent knees
so close to being broken,
unspoken is the sixth word,
but it was heard before.
when the floor was wood
and life was good
and love was not an obscenity.
an amenity
to be bartered off
to be placed
in deep and hungry pockets.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.