Poetry by Guy Farmer

What Remains

Trying to remember whether,
At any point during his life,
He had heard some word of
Encouragement, a sympathetic nod,
A kind ear listening to his thoughts,
Something other than the incessant
Contortions, the waiting for whatever
Torment came his way,
A practiced flinch here,
An overly eager response there,
A resigned apology prefacing a beating,
Eyes cast downward as what remains of
His self exits his body.



They worked at the same company
At one point, one of those situations
Where people who normally
Would not mingle are forced into
Spending way too much time
Pretending to like each other,
Affecting one false smile after another,
Forced laugh, bland anecdote told
In excessively animated fashion,
Bereft of any genuine connection,
Two unsymbiotic beings struggling to
Find a way out of a cell with no door.

July 2016 Table of Contents