SHAME, Maggie Bàra

SHAME
by Maggie Bàra

Signing twice, I return the Judge’s pen. His signature is like spit. “You are hereby divorced from yourself.”I thank the men of the courtroom and shake my own hand, very business-like. I start to miss her as I watch her turn and click heel and float away towards the ceiling, leaving through an open window.

“Restraining Order stands.” My attorney checks his watch. I know. I can’t look at a blue sky or the mere reflections of the moon. The World and Sun still scold me, saying “Happy?” I haven’t got that part to me anymore, she wanted out.

Maggie Bàra is currently working as a professional dishwasher until she saves up enough money for her space shuttle back to M’Violemprè. In the meantime, she sends transmissions of poetry and prose in an attempt to stay sane and paints pictures of eyeballs in teacups. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s