..
This part
-icular poem
would like to take it all back,
retract her former
selves and songs, let down
her hair a little longer, be
-long to another moon. She
swoons for sea, and salt, but
all this clacking is giving her
a bit of a headache.
She’ll happily take
a nap. Or a break. Or a breather
somewhere where the sky
is still blue. She’s
feeling a little misunderstood,
misconstrued and mis
-quoted. Folks are doting
on the wrong phrases.
Her phases are sporadic
at best, resting in pools
of their own
(blood, tears)
…………sweat,
and yet, if she could just
stir it all into some
semblance of hope
stew, she’d be
the happiest poem
around.
You see, it seems
the masses think
she thinks she’s
lost.
And what she means
to say:
……………she’s found.
..
Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 17.
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