a lock has been broken.
safe-keeping is relative
and unlike kitten curled up
blanket-snug fever pitch is high
caught low crib bars bend-and
delusions roll over.
what can one do, but
smith the lock and
bend the key
and seal the lips
and bind the mouth
and trip the switch-
but the lock is still broken.
and a little blood seeps out.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
I was just awarded the Perfect Poet Award from Promising Poet's Cafe/Jingle Poetry. I'm excited, I want to nominate everybody but I...
-
This hurting is an eagle's ache. with unclipped, unfurled rage hidden inside a broken break or beak. But I've decided to move things...
-
motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
-
Fragmented for T.S. Eliot Just cut me in two, will you? Or Staple that stain to my sleeve, Barbie Q. burger shack in St. Lou. And then tie a...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
Wonderful and a little obscure. Like the metaphor.
ReplyDeletethanks Budd-y.
ReplyDelete