Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard

Custom Search


Issue 18
Issue 17
Issue 16
Issue 15
Issue 14
Issue 13
Issue 12
Issue 11
Issue 10
Issue 9
Issue 8
Issue 7
Issue 6
Issue 5
Issue 4
Issue 3
Issue 2
Issue 1



help support us -- shop through this Amazon link!

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed
under a Creative Commons
4.0 International License

Postmodern Village
est. 1999
e-mail * terms * privacy

No. I haven't missed you at all.
by Francine DuBois

He lied, the untruth bubbling through his teeth
Like a rabid dog's froth.

He had his sledgehammer and was bludgeoning the heads of all her dolls.
But yes, he did miss her, in a way
He could not fathom -- an element of him was tied up in her
(very tightly, with an 25-ft indoor-outdoor extension cord) --
anger, yes, but all he knew about love too.

And if he lost that, if he lost her, what would he have but emptiness?

So he stopped smashing dolls heads when he saw her
And pretended to be strong.

"I'm not supposed to know about this, I can tell," she smirked as she hugged him,
Full of manipulation. They both knew she was heading to another lover's house.
They both knew she'd be back for dinner: he'd make meatloaf.

"You're taking such good care of me: destroying the bad parts of my childhood
So I don't need to, so I'm not saddled with their faces." She kissed his cheek
And skipped to the car he bought her.

He continued his work.


Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
Previous Poem -- Next Poem -- Table of Contents