Passion Attack

I have a weakness for journals and notebooks. If I’m traveling, and I see a store that sells stationery, I can’t help myself. I buy them with the intent to step up my writing (which I often do), but what often happens is that I then stumble upon them months later, full of scraps of poems, all pleading to be finished.

This is one such poem, from last year’s road trip to the Pacific Northwest, with my daughter and daughter-in-law.

Passion Attack

It started in the kitchen
It moved into the hall
It took in all the surfaces
Countertops, floors and walls

It briefly shook the dining room
As witnessed by dishevelled chairs
Then back into the hallway
It proceeded up the stairs

Pausing briefly on the landing
Unsure of left or right
Before proceeding to the bathroom
Without turning on a light

Toiletries were scattered
The bathmat was askew
The shower curtain battered
Did a whirlwind just pass through?

Wait, I hear a murmur
It’s coming from down the hall
Will I witness carnage?
Will I walk in on a brawl?

Stepping into the bedroom
I see two bodies on the bed
Are they the victims of senseless violence?
Have they been left for dead?

It’s then that I see that they’re naked
And that their clothing is liberally spread
From the skirt that I saw in the kitchen
To the boxers that are  right by the bed

Sensing no crime’s been committed
And then hearing someone snore
I turn and leave the bedroom
And hurriedly head for the door

This was no home invasion
No one suffered harm
Just two lovers loving
It was all a false alarm

© 2020 Robert Ford