Posted in Poetry

Cold Feet

The cold feet
of the masses
marching their
science of waiting
along the river
on that cold hot day
after you spiked
the obvious answers
across the net
that stood
between you
              the point went to No One

Soon you will fall
into their cadence
where nobody knows
the way to the
District of Forget.

               March
                            March
                                         March

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

Day 25 of April / National & Global Poetry Writing Month. This is the 23rd poem in a Narrative Series that I call She&He in which I explore the relationship between two fictional characters.  Their story can be found right here by scrolling back through the month.  Thank you to those who have been reading along with them.  Cheers, Jilly 🙂

She & He #23

Author:

A wild soul writing poetry.

12 thoughts on “Cold Feet

  1. I really like this: “on that cold hot day
    after you spiked
    the obvious answers
    across the net
    that stood
    between you
    the point went to No One”

    I love this image.
    The marching makes me think of protest marches and war–
    There does seem to be a sort of DMZ between them.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Enigmas trudge onto the piste! Who are these masses, and are they massing inside the narrative or out? “…their science of waiting”, “spiked their answers” and “District of Forget” are terrific. The long march pulls in many narratives from many times and places. Their (his/her) history, History. But cold feet is a hesitation, and here I get action (the spiking of the ball) and slow, painful, forward slogging. Did I miss a tempo?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. So here’s a twist – go literal on the cold feet. I guess I was thinking mostly of how it feels to march / walk long distances at a slow pace in the city in the cold. Your feet begin to sting. The marchers are all those trying to forget but not being able to.
      However, I wanted this one to be unsettling and enigmatic because that is how He now feels with She gone.

      Like

  3. The formatting of this poem says, “marching on.” The repetition at the end just reinforces it. The cold… the river… the District of Forget… all say a break up. But I know it’s too soon for it to be lasting. …if it ever will be.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The odd part of this series is that it is out of sequence. The break up was hinted at way back on the 11th with Battle Wounds when he let her board the plane and flee eastward away from him. Then it was complete when she slept with her shoes on and they shared that Sour Embrace. Now, he marches with the masses who are trying to forget.

      Liked by 1 person

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