POEM A DAY 2019

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Showing posts with the label poem 27

Is it me?
Am I he?
Is life slop?
Is trash soup?
Is soup life?
Soup slop lief lop?

Just taking it and apologising isn't enough,

I say sorry in my sleep,

it's water off my back,

it is said and I shuffle on.

I could actually parse why someone's mad,

and say it's not really me,

or take it on the chin,

understand it,

and remember.

Anger is like anything else,

so who's irritated, really?

And will I stop,

of course but

clear away your eggshells first,

tiptoeing is a

miserable infinite spiral,

a flawless trap.

Gran Martha with the broken wheel heart

Sent across the ocean

12 years old

Short bangs and bobbed hair

You can’t mend it

Out to sea

And all alone

Bound loosely by

Legacies of cut ties