I wake
as if in a strange bed
the walls rearrange
themselves in the night
after too much coffee
I kick off my shoes
pace lingo-listless
between the lines
of the ceiling and floor
like a caged bird
I file my nails
twiddle my thumbs
sharpen all my pencils
sharpen kitchen knives
a knife thrower
must find satisfaction
in the crack of blade
after blade in wood
the fraying of splinters
as far as jelly jars go
they frighten me
Ball, Mason
those pot metal lids
so tight with corrosion
Tess Kincaid
July, 2011
To join Magpie Tales creative writing group click here.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar