Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Left Behind - a Poem for Day Twenty-Five of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-five of the PAD Challenge:

It’s time for that final two-for-Tuesday prompt of April. Regulars probably already know what the prompt is.

Here are the two prompts for today:
  • Write a love poem. The poem could be about lovers, but also the love of family, love between friends, or even loving your job, chocolate, or music. Or…
  • Write an anti-love poem. Maybe you’re a hater; that’s fine. We’ve got the anti-love poem prompt for you.

You're Transparent to Me Now

Left Behind

You speak
     to animals,
     but you don’t tell me
     what they say.
You are
     as dangerous
as dry ice.
You scrape
my childlike hide,
     and go seek

     inside a yurt
     with dirt
for your bed.
     You’re a shipwreck
waiting to happen
     on the imaginary 
of Cathedral City.
You’ve set
     twelve thousand
     but never attained
You are
the moaning
     of a brass gong
     the cry
          of a sitar
all rolled into one.
You gallop
     like the beats
     of a tongue
You said
     you would always
     be my
sleep doctor.
You held
     my hand,
the sunrise on the crest
of Mount Batur. 
you jumped
     off a cliff,
     left me alone,
said you had
better things
     to see,
     had to do it
on your own.
So now,
you sit
     on my shelf,
a thematic dictionary,
the ensuing
     and after-
of my heart. 


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