poetry
Comments 3

Outside Words

image

Mosquitoes are marathon runners with wings.
When I stop to drink in the sky at sunset

I become their water. Tonight my legs
Will be polka-dotted pink and I

Will be an ancient woman
Who did not fear the dark and its sounds.

This trail goes all the way around the world and
This part, full of silver stars,

Makes my battery-operated candle seem
A crime. I keep it turned off. The night is cool and

Soft like lullabies in autumn with open windows,
Except this is the start of spring.

Somewhere near by there is an owl
Singing his death song, drowning out the train

The way hurricanes drown cities. If Poseidon
Is in the Pacific then his brother is here,

Walking these fallen trees, reading the quiet
Like it’s poetry and I am the next book

He wants to read. The dead here see me like He does, but
They don’t each have their own bird to make me stop.

They have their eyes that upon finding me
Turn my heart into a bell, loud, ringingringing,

Beatingbeating, each beat a seed that plants
A black rose. They grow in the back of my mind

While the owl sounds like he’s closer.

This entry was posted in: poetry

3 Comments

  1. Its like you read my mind! You appear to know so much
    about this, like you wrote the book in it or
    something. I think that you could do with a few pics to drive the message home a little bit, but
    instead of that, this is great blog. A great read. I’ll definitely be back.

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