Autopsy of a marriage

Thrumming away from each other like broken mountains,

by your second year, you had been excommunicated.

Wrought by the passage of God, your clipped speech and ruddy cheeks

made it hurt to be alive.


Her dowry – platelets swimming under skin and a fertile womb.

Yours – a cellar of wine and an insistent mother whose teat you never could retire.

At one time you were fleshy hips and languid tongues,

begging eyes and fast of foot across the floor.


With a God she could never swallow, nor your stewed kicks –

pissing on tyres your watermark

only to lurch into clarion cries of cocky rapture.

Days of wine and roses capsized into nights

of swollen heads and an ugly mouth.


Now foreheads cowl in fury –

screaming at divorce lawyers who bathe in the blood of your children,

you’ve learnt how to torch yourself with mediators papers –

slack words spilling from the moorings of your mouth

with cataracts of guilt you will never feel.

12 thoughts on “Autopsy of a marriage

  1. There is no guilt for some. One must have possession of a conscience and it is frightening to see how many do not. It is even more frightening to attempt to live among them.
    Excellent work Carly. XOXO


    1. Thank you, Lea. For some, there is no guilt, accountability or shame when there should be. It is beyond unconscionable and I am so relieved that my loved one is away from where she once was. And I’m grateful that you are, too. Big love XO

      Liked by 1 person

    1. It is tough shit, and it’s worse watching someone you adore having to go through so much unnecessary pain than it happening to oneself. It it were happening to me, I’d feel like I had some sort of control. Thanks for your kind words, Kath XO

      Liked by 1 person

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