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Weeds
It must have been three or four in the morning
jumping from one naked bed to the next
imagining weeds growing out of my broken wing
and how some people leave them in the cracks
while others pull and trim.
Every soul needs a rim
every love a first and a last hymn
I don’t want to rhyme today
but the other half is in your sunny ray.
Someone pulled me out of my dream
he was tall
and spoke eloquently
with words of a poet
was it you?
Did you feel my naked skin?
The weeds are under the snow now
still -10 in the wind
as well as my heart.
Lying down in examining rooms
being spread out and memorizing
centimeters and numbers
cyst sizes and wild frontiers.
I imagine I would be pretty as a blonde
but I’m okay.
He looked so worried
talking to my old high school teacher
in a waiting room of women
with pretty robes and panoramic views of the city
from the tenth floor.
I’m okay.
I feel like a weed though
I feel stuck between the cracks
and I’m not so sure
if I’m okay at all.
Comments:
14
Haha, sounds like a trip. I’ m sure you’ ll be fine. It’ sa case of deleting all the visions from the night and starting afresh. That’ s probs one of the good things about daylight, that it can enable you to switch from night weed mode. Let me know if I’ m completely off-track with this.
you take what you want from this
reader and writer is never the same thing -)
I prefer brunettes to blondes! 🙂
🙂 lol
I like this.
Thanks 🙂
Hey! You have been nominated by WordPress user bleedingoutink to be featured on Retkon Poet Anniversary Week! (wp.me/p2mtwX-1SY). Fourteen poets will be featured from April 6-13. Please give consent or refuse before April 2 by replying to this comment.
Have a wonderful day 🙂
Honored. Thank you.
Great! How would you like to be credited?
With a link to my blog?
Of course, but under what name?
Christina Strigas 🙂
Ok, ok, you got me, I’m your new fan! Love your prose
Thanks you made me smile;)