Sunday, September 29, 2013

Flush (Ode to the same Kind)

I was busy with this other kind of poetry
the kind that sits
and waits
and simmers in itself until it falls apart

You were busy watching the kind people
making  friends
making things
like comfort and security

I like that about you
and the easy manner
you cross your arms against your chest
guarding your invitation to destroy me

You did, too. You destroyed me
in a single sitting
on your front porch
I haven't recovered since

No comments:

Post a Comment