there was cinnamon
on my lips.
the clouds were covered
but the sun was fire
on my tongue.
&& mother always told me I was
burnt,
like brick baking in the summer heat.
I found my red eyes to be wanting,
and he did too.
[because it was
too bright,
too bold,
too different.]
I crashed into pavement cracks
because they were
beautiful,
like sadness
and cocaine breaths.
&& i always remembered,
i was scorched,
like mother always told me I was
burnt
under summer sun.
Author notes
...
A contest entry
- moves like red by Cat.
650 points, ended November 11, 2007, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
thanks for such a nice entry....
al -
there is a lot to like here in this piece- especially bricks baking in the summer heat-
but the double & signs are distracting like a stutter-
but you definitely have a poetic voice and i appreciate your entry here
m -
I can't tell you why (because I really don't know myself) but this stung deep inside my gut. In a stunningly emotional way. So congrats on that.
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