How do the sounds blur and
run together
like so much watercolor
paint, splattered by toothbrush on the
canvas of my
brainwaves?
In tiny little droplets, that's how,
shimmering all the way down
the water spout,
tip me over and pour me out:
in a one-two motion,
I wax on, wax off,
and learn that
waiting is.
And looking at the past, like
seeing through reflections
to a less real world
helps me grasp the
current angle.
Angular
features, he looks like
heaven on a silver platter--
or maybe
just
the better mousetrap.
A pulling in the jawbone
reminds me why I'm here, and how;
and I am ceaselessly amazed
at my knack
for living through
my self-destructive motions.
Author notes
Meh.
A contest entry
- anything your heart desires, prewrites, new, everything! by wendymolly.
555 points, ended July 27, 2008, 41 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
this is well written my dear poet!
you are a contest finalist! take care always and have a lovely week.
~pithyAplomB.
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