One day, you just forget the dead
and with that you become immortal
When all the weight is gone, she expains
As we walk hand in hand, just two stray bullets
I think...funny...the walls do look a little tall
Especially around my house
Where blue plastic siding flakes into humid summer sky
Where bricks seem to be building themselves to protect
The grief now living there from the passing taxis
She seems so cheerful today, but she is always cheerful
As we stop to admire flowers on the side of the freeway
She even laughs-Oh look, they spelled your name wrong
Her mouth moving in stunning arches
kind of like the white light in the shape of wings
Attached to her back
The contours of which in the wind form to create
A language which to me is at once familiar
At twice a babble
She’ll wait forever I know, it’s what she does
Brushing my stubborn dead into memories of dust
Let her, I know I have plenty where that came from
Grief is a jacket that always fits
She smiles naively as I think this, light a cigarette
I can always find excuses not to go home
Author notes
I thought this was a story, turns out it was a better poem. Who knew?
A contest entry
- Poetry contest by Xtclozer-.
700 points, ended March 9, 2008, 25 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
This was really a unique poem. I like some of the wording that you use in it. Especially the line about how her mouth moves. I love that one. Good luck in the contest!
~Joann -
It didnt really catch my attention..But, it was good. There is no such thing as a 'bad' poem, because poems are just flowing emotions, put into words, and onto paper (or the screen). It just isnt one of my favorites. Either way, thanks for entering
(If I sound harsh, sorry, its just my personality
I do like this poem though, just not my fav)
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