When a screw comes loose


Earlier it was severance,
A wrench low down when I was tight on,
A tearfulness when I thought of rejecting him,
Heartbroken when I lost all my gold coins.
Gold soon turned to grey,
Bleached and blanched to sickliness
In the many hours of nights awake,
Repeating the same old antimatter,
Chewing the cud on antimatter.
The screw turned back and forth,
The notch scraped harder,
The lockedness – all I wanted, 
Staying stable
Stable into death I rolled.
No, he’s still gold
But I have turned to ash.
All it took
To resurrect
Was a profusion of ambers,
Of amethysts,
Rubies and yellow,
Yellow gem of Sun you are – 
Music soothing,
People grooving,
Screw’s a-moving.


  1. HJM · July 18, 2013

    Love the elegant flow on this piece. A pleasure to read.

    • Billie · July 19, 2013

      Thank you! Argument, structure and rhythm matter to me very much about any poem, so it’s lovely to have that feedback.

  2. t h i n g s + f l e s h · July 18, 2013

    this language – the vocabulary of severance – kept me reading along, transfixed. elegantly done. tony

    • Billie · July 19, 2013

      Thanks very much Tony! This was a weird occasion when I started the poem with the title and stuck with it!

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