Dostoyevsky…
(A name you like saying)
Dostoyevsky clearly understood
The workings of the human mind.
But there were times when he wished he didn’t.
You read it
In bright summer sunshine
On the back of a pony
And could look up
And escape
The hatchet of despair.
I read it
When it was raining,
In fifty page instalments
Like a daily flagellation.
When I looked up
The rain
Blinded my eyes in tears.
Only your bare foot
Saved me from drowning.
They say Dostoyevsky
Was influenced by Dickens
But went in much deeper
Than he had ever dared to
Though still could not dare
Anything but a happy ending
Of sorts.
Happy endings
Spread like a plague,
A cushion
At the bottom of the pit
That doesn’t completely stop the fall.
Sad endings
Are easier to write
Than to read
That is why
Good writers make bad human beings
And vice versa.
My crime was to love you,
My punishment, being unable to tell you.