blown sideways on a map
of self-destruction
i think that’s what she said while trying to smile
and i never was one to argue with deliverance
even after tilt-shift became a normal point of view
i wanted to hold you
at least your hand
but paper thin skin
kept rising between us
none of us means to die
even when we want to
trying to smile at her own lost joke
fingers scrabbling at the corners
of a crooked mouth gone dry
like the wind i drank
to forget your sky
.
.
.
April 1st, 2017 at 2:05 pm
This poem speaks to me about aging and “last days.” Two friend celebrate birthdays this month. One is 97 and the other, 99. I’ve made peace with using a walker ALL the time. Age has powerful effects!!
Thanks for your poems!
April 1st, 2017 at 5:30 pm
Oh. here you are again, blowing me sideways with your words and images and I am never one to argue with it … just thank you.
xox
April 2nd, 2017 at 1:46 am
I’ve been remiss visiting. Am glad the prod of April is upon us.
This is beautiful, and that last couplet…. sublime ~
April 2nd, 2017 at 12:27 pm
Oh this speaks to me about regret and mistakes… thank you for a beautiful poem.