Wednesday, February 4, 2009

3 word wednesday

crumpled, rumpled by the dirt in my closet
kicked off the heels of new shoes
I explicitly told the children not to romp in
the heather of old tales untold
they burn in the garden rings and rosies
singing those songs of my life
and I continue to stir the dull macaroni
that bubbles and fissures boiling hot
Illicit little noodles of thought and circumstance
nourishing another day of ants in my pants
I ache for those days of arms wrapped around me
those times when it seemed these superiors cared
when I fished for a compliment and got one
to cook it all up with lemons and capers and eat
the divine fish of my soul
now it is all shots and semen
and my nerve walks no more

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