Tuesday Poem - Parsley by Chris Mansell

 

Parsley

so I go outside

and pick parsley

to make tabouli

the burghul is

inside soaking

and the parsley

makes my hands

fresh and taste like

truth

this is the closest

I can get

to describe it

and with truth

on my hands

I come inside

and think of hurt

how I cut you off so

brutally and

not wanting it

at all and you, no doubt,

angry and I no doubt

remorseful I loved you

in my own way

(always the worst

way to love)

I couldn’t take

- any more -

your attempts

to captivate and

educate but

I wanted your

sweet lips your

sweet body

that look that comes

out of the corner

of your eye

when you

make a joke

I wash the parsley

and pull the stalks off

take the truth

into my mouth

it makes

the breath fresh

they say but

my heart

still stinks

Here is another poem by Chris Mansell who writes so many irresistible poems. I heard her read this one when she was featuring at The Dan and, goodness me, it was powerful. If you get a chance to hear her read, well, I won't say crawl over broken glass to get there, but definitely make a bit of an effort.

http://members.ozemail.com.au/~writerslink/Chris_Mansell/Chris_Mansell_Home.html


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