The Enabler

by Melanie Houle

People have their reasons, you would tell me,
though you never seemed to tell me yours.
Instead, you lit the room with repartee,
the air around you glistening with words.
I heard, I saw my life with you would be
a cage of gilded adjectives and verbs,
no space for questioning, no place for doubt,
but still I stayed to decorate the walls
your eloquence devised to keep me out,
and read the handwriting upon them all.
Afraid I had no voice, I made it so,
and so I smiled, without the will to stop
sitting silent at your feet in limbo,
waiting for the fatal words to drop.

© 2007 by Melanie Houle


About the Author

Melanie Houle is a physician and former jeweler. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and The Raintown Review's first featured poet . Her poetry also appears in The Lyric, California Quarterly, The Aurorean, Neovictorian/ Cochlea, Tigerâ's Eye, Mobius, Pearl, Barefoot Muse, The HyperTexts, Journal of the American Medical Association and others.


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