Art by Karin Gustafson--all rights reserved
Bloom where you’re planted?
We are tin can, half priced
dried out skull plants.
Please don’t go on about
a glass’s water line.
I’m too thirsty for optimism.
I’m not sure about the current move.
She bookshelved us to spine up to
someone called Mary Oliver.
I hope she comes back soon
with that drink she promised us.
It is cooler in here. I am so over
that yellow marble and your
constant poem babble in my ear
about light nesting us in hope.
That bird keeps looking at us.
We don’t have any fruit,
there’s not a worm in the pot,
and I stopped blooming weeks ago.
Oh, wait…yes, yes…
The lady with the savior complex
is keeping her promise….WATER!
It feels divine…. My roots are twitching.
I think I just might get used
to the feel of this shelf we’re sitting on.
Stop looking so smug. You know it was
my whining that brought us here.
Really? Can I at least enjoy the water
a few minutes before you start in
with the glass thing again?!?
#NaPoWriMo2017
Comments
Love this line:
"Please don’t go on about
a glass’s water line.
I’m too thirsty for optimism."
Is there a name for this type writing, I would like to study up and try my hand.
..