holy curiosity
i buy
the wrong kind of bacon
and walk into walls
at least twice every
obstinate day
sometimes i think i’ve gone mad
as i lie on the floor
wondering why all the corners
keep shifting six inches
from blown out
half gone retina
but when i pull myself up
i see stars
and this isn’t the shape
of our story nor the smell
left behind
on a wrinkled up pillow
branding form onto feather
and bone
just a kiss implied never taken
as i dream of rising
and {then again} falling
into the cracked steeple
of charity’s morn
.
.
.
A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month. Day 12
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge.
.
April 13th, 2015 at 2:51 am
that description of ‘obstinate days’ is spot-on. the 2nd and 3rd stanzas are amazing (and remind me of waking up, once, after having passed out in the bathroom due to blood loss from a wound. another story. but wondering, why is my cheek cold?) haven’t thought about that in a long time. you tap deep with your pens, Kelly ~