Your beloved body
parts blur
my routines.
I peel your heels
off my lonely
loaf of sourdough,
curse your face
when you alarm
me that I’m going
to be late,
move your hands
ahead when I realize
we’ve lost time,
run your teeth
through my locks—
split at the ends,
rip the heart
from your chosen
bowl of flourishing greens,
follow bloodshot-red threads
to your cavernous eye
in all my attempts
to ignore & then stitch
my torn-apart heart
shut.
parts blur
my routines.
I peel your heels
off my lonely
loaf of sourdough,
curse your face
when you alarm
me that I’m going
to be late,
move your hands
ahead when I realize
we’ve lost time,
run your teeth
through my locks—
split at the ends,
rip the heart
from your chosen
bowl of flourishing greens,
follow bloodshot-red threads
to your cavernous eye
in all my attempts
to ignore & then stitch
my torn-apart heart
shut.
 |
| Time Has Become Distorted |
Today's prompt, Day Two (copied from Poetic Asides at Writer's Digest):
And today is actually a special day: Two for Tuesday! Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!
- Write a worst case poem. What’s the worst that could happen?
- Write a best case poem. Take the worst and reverse it!
*****
No comments:
Post a Comment