i trudge up the driveway to my mother's house (i am already trudging back down),
and implicit memory kicks in: open the door, left foot first, right foot next, (one foot remains out the door),
my mother greets me with a smile and a "welcome home"
(it's been too long. i miss you),
so i mirror it and reply with a "it's good to be back,"
(where is home? i don't belong here.)
homemade bread, grape juice, and the massive painting of Jesus's crucifixion echo her greeting (i, judas iscariot, stare right back at him, completing this last supper),
and an overwhelmingly inexplicable sense of guilt, like a rope around my neck strangles me,
while i run my fingers over the painting's holy braille ('I̶N̶R̶I̶', 'abandon all hope ye who enter here'.)
YOU ARE READING
anhedonia (unfinished)
Poetryanhedonia: [noun] the loss of interest and enjoyment in all activities that you once liked; the feeling of not caring anymore. title is in common letters for aesthetic purposes. all rights reserved.
