And it seems as if she has spent her whole life waiting
Waiting so many years for him to come that she gave up
Resigned herself to living without him
So when he finally arrived
His hands filled with fresh new days and
His kisses whispering with promises of youth
She thought, "Yes. It is right. I have paid
And as she waits she spins out the possibilities Of life without him again
A return to the barren past
But with each tormenting moment
She knows, she knows, she knows
she cannot go back.
And as the hours pass an awareness buds
Rooted by the wall of her pain
An awareness fed by the loss of all meaning save this:
"I have survived."
She shreds the wasted hours into confetti
As her hands thread back into work.
The following poems were published in INK.
Warner reading from Rock Bottom at the Key West Literary Seminar, 2014.
The Hole in the Ozone
My introduction to it could hardly be called scientific
I was at college in the Sixties when
A house was named that way
(Where the addicts got cured, I was told)
"She's in the ozone," you'd say when Someone was totally spaced
The ozone was not of this world
The ozone was out there, my friend
It was too abstract to have any meaning
And as I dressed for my class in
Sixteenth Century Poetry
I wondered what possible relevance
The ozone had to me
But they've found a hole in it now
And, you know? That makes you think.