titles and bits of poems i start in my head on the bus and never finish

a certain sadness comes
with leaving

would i be the same
if she were here

you say i saved your life

the zen of spider solitaire

and all i can think
about is

sliding down the sunburnt hillside
jumping over the
walls topped by shards of glass
like my brother's gel-spiked hair

just to reach those
perfect verdini,
little green figs
dripping with sweetness

tear them open to see the rubies
glistening inside
before you pop
them into
your mouth

No comments:

Post a Comment