Sunday, November 21, 2021

leaving a small mark

forever, the lucky white lies
inside a neverending day
there are nervous words 
for most of this

I hear you saved me a plate
and become an avalanche 
crashing with applause
my mouth a riot 

praying for the day to soften 
nursing its rotten return--
what might not happen 
after I reread this

No comments:

It is told

I cast stones, follow them down with my eye everyone loves a happy ending  a memory of my father, hand raised to give me  a high five or a h...