What of the end, Pandora?
Pandora returns
to the kitchen late one night
unsure of what
has brought her there
perhaps some
troubled dream
that still
haunts the 40-watt gloom
the lazy shadows
that line the walls like maps
she leans on the
back of a high wooden chair
and surveys the
room the unwashed dishes
littering the
table piled in the sink
the toys strewn
across the floor
a naked doll in
a shoe box
the fruit bowl a
study in decay
but beyond the
surfaces
and on a high
shelf at the back
behind a bottle
of Tesco’s whisky
is the jar the
lid still screwed in tight.
The next day,
sometime after two
in the garden on
the rickety table
she sets down an
apple the jar the bottle
and sits down
throwing off her shoes
she lies back
closes her eyes
can hear her
daughter singing the blues
as she climbs
the steps to the slide
she stretches
out her hand to catch at the …
and as her sleeve
rises up her arm
she sees the
tattoo just below her wrist
“Gods’ Gift” her
fingers pause …
Halfway through
the whiskey the apple gone to core
she picks up the
jar and puts it to her ear
wonders if it
will purr like Schrödinger’s cat
she hears the
beat of wings things borne
all that is left
when all else escapes
takes flight
flees a prisoner all but released
the dregs the
lees there’s so little air to breathe …
What of the
end?
She wipes the
earth from her hands
but the dirt has
been ingrained
she rubs at a
spot but it won’t come out
the stain the
prophecy the reading of the banns
the spreading of
the pall
will these
hands never be clean?
She empties the
last of the whisky
over the grave
and as the rain
begins to fall
she calls her daughter
from a game
all too human
considers the
torment of hope
Check out the following links
http://mural.uv.es/spricas/pandora.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat
