When he found you,
you were like a caretaker of living vines.
You walked free
up and down rows of
collected lives,
learning their ways, seeing the value
in their twists and turns.
He licked his lips, shook his jailhouse
key in anticipation of the mayhem he
would bring your way.
He could see you were more than
enough to challenge his need for
destruction of the virtuous.
He found a way to convince you he
knew the truth and he would do you good
by unmasking you and dismantling you
by taking your sweetness and dissolving it
in the water from his rotten vat.
You kept thinking your kindness would
release him from his monster mind,
but he was bound to walk those notions,
potions he had been concocting all
his lousy life.
Little did he know that power was your
pal when times got really rough
there was no stopping you when
enough was enough.
All he had to do was leave
for just a little while before you saw
your vineyard waiting in the sun.
You saw your juices flowing
in the place they call asunder and
there was no turning back.
Photo by Emmeline T. on Unsplash
Susan Shea
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who was born in New York City, and now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. She feels like she is coming alive again, able to return to writing poetry. Susan has been published in Plainsongs, Pudding, The Bluebird Word, and The Agape Review. Recently Susan has had poems accepted for Last Stanza Poetry Journal, The Bookends Review, Exstasis, Poetry Breakfast, and four anthologies by The Moonstone Arts Center:The Weight of Motherhood, by Wingless Dreamer: Darkness Within Me, by Pure Slush Books: Lifespan Series:Achievement, and by Poet’s Choice: Nostalgia.
