it’s okay to get out of bed early, you don’t have to worry anymoreabout missing out on cuddles and special time together, he’s here,and from what you can see (the photos, the driver’s license, theclothes in the closet) you should probably believe he will stay.don’t worry so much about being left alone, not any time soon, andnot any more than any other woman would worry about the man she loves walking...
pay attention, they tell me, pay attention to the things you hearlike the birds singing, or coffee shop chatter, or crying and if I pay attention, they tell me, I’ll contain multitudes multitudes of words drown me like the rising tide andI can’t keep my head above water so the words are swallowedand then they lift me buoyantly back to life there they go, floating along the waves, the words are boats...
Where I come from the earth was turned and tilledby my grandfather for years while he grew apple trees, blueberry bushes, big fat purple grapeson vines over an arbor, but there were ugly things too –the bees that attacked when I went for an apple, andthose fat green tomato slugs he’d burn off with a blow torch. Even then, I thought that was crazy, and I was right. Somethings were...
You sing a new song every morning.In your thin teeshirts and loose shorts,you’re a sleepy singer, but your eyes are bright.Remember all those Saturdays and Sundays wewoke up and rolled into each other’s arms?That was always my favorite place to be.Wrapped up in you and blankets and love,sun shining through the window, welcoming us to the day.You sing a new song every morning. From Audrey Gidman’s monthly poetry prompts: Write...
you look so innocent with your soft blue eyes and kind smile, no one would believe you’d do the things you’ve done to me, but here we are anyway. me here, you somewhere else; we stopped sharing our locations and now i have lost you more. but something inside me still reaches for you, despite your trickery and trampling of my heart, some thin strand of hope for another chance...
