Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Friday, August 10, 2018

untitled 55

Sound isn't what you think.
Your boot soles flat on the wooden floor
is how your feet make fools of your ears.

"Forever" is the froth
offered up by every stranger I have loved.
I turn to it like a bloom,
but fissures up my back 
is how time finds the fool in the room.
______

A 55 for Kerry.

5 comments:

  1. I love that the title might reference a person who is 55 and feels nameless.

    This is a horribly painful poem. I can feel its truth cracking my spine as it walks across my back while I'm still flattened on the floor.

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  2. A fantastic 55. I feel the same way about those fast-footed forever's.

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  3. Oh the things we do and say for love, that little winged pouffy-lipped Tasmanian devil.

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  4. This is a painful reminder that love comes at a price. Either the fool is left to count the cost or is in fact the one who walked away.

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  5. Clean and sober. yes. This tag would fit here too. And I know you're all about the tags:)

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?