the yellow bruise of the morning
is where I list wonders aloud
& I can't pick myself up
from bending silences
and lock on air
I dare any unknown to find me
I draw maps to where I am
ghosts already know me
falling through the sky
all breath only sighs
Pic: Max and Huck are surprised in the guest room.
1 comment:
I like this, maya.
The word choice is smart; it leads the reader emotionally into a sort of tentative sympathy in the first stanza, but the second stanza's tone is more desperate and almost angry. The imagery is more bold and frightening, but ends with a soft and, again, sympathetic metaphor.
The last line of the first stanza warns us what's coming with the word Lock--nicely done.
I'll reread this a few times to get even more.
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