I'm on a bag of corn kernels bed
as material mattress at the beach
and my husband took me to that
when I didn't want conventional like my dad got me out of city;
anagram Colorado back to California almost
without need but memory
sometimes and come out of spot at dawn instead of twilight,
I try to keep it right from stress of day
for tan lines and red marks,
the warmth of arms and sun
no millimeter filmaker father
but once or twice cell phone camera on malleable pillow now
and silence speaks aggregate aggression or not too
with run on sentence of water front
succulence smiles and massages without drool,
language can't let out a call always
but love can bear a groan in channel of simplicity;
no read lips posed
as connection to my ancestors or chance to give birth
flashes without photograph
naturally and leukorrhea is as hard to swallow as digestion
that can turn around and nitpick want all sensation on sand
like what I skipped as kid not knowing white waves
without jellyfish scare and cycles
Author notes
good luck isn't earliest or latest thing to look for, nor in between
please don't involve me with emoticons or the applause,
though rose can be translatable for words...
A contest entry
- Where the mind drifts by Danna Hobart.
375 points, ended February 11, 2008, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
volumes
Comments
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Loved this. Thanks for entering.
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This was very well written Dear I like all your imagery in it. Keep up the excellent work and be blessed with many more. Cara
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