Sunday, May 20, 2012
it's just a scratch
fear not. I am not all fat, blue, trembling lips.
part of me is actually blushing;selfishly pink.
I am at times, like I was when I was a girl:
all scrapes, all teeth, roaring.
do you remember me this way?
of course you don't.
you never remember anything
even though you were there.
Now the girlish part of me is hoping
what I've said makes you so uncomfortable,
that you itch in only inconvenient places,
and your nails lack the fortitude to scratch.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
when we are twisted up together-in blankets and the colors of the outside of our window- are washed out in the storm.
-
husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
La Jolla for Theodor Geisel (Dr. Seuss) Barefoot on the coast after burnt toast from the long-nosed stove on the cove. I will escape the poi...
-
I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
-
Pedi-ness The awkward tomboy within me hides in the balls of my feet. Itching, rising up my leg begging for a scratch. "Oh, say somethi...
-
A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
No comments:
Post a Comment