pickle

Thu, 01/28/2016 - 13:38 -- mxiao

1.

as you grow up

you begin to realize some things

 

 

2.

pickle the teddy bear

stood sentinel at the head of your bed

since the days you still sucked

on a pacifier

you believed

that he could fight the dragons

that came to burn your castle down

in your dreams

and maybe even now

you have trouble believing

that pickle

doesnt actually do that

3.

i was five

the first time i remember scraping

my knee on the

pavement

on my way to

school

mommy gave me a

kiss on

the forehead

before putting a band

aid on

the bloody patch

but the older you

get the more

wounds a kiss and a

word cant fix

because no

words are going to fix

the bloodless fracture inside your

mind

4.

a dog

is not

prone to

the kinds

of thoughts

we are

maybe

because

it does

not care

at all

 

5.

newtons law of inertia states that

a still object will stay still

and

a moving object will stay moving

until an external force acts upon it

 

i do wonder

what

exactly

made my mind start moving

in the first place

6.

happiness

is more of a burden to be hoisted around

upon aging joints and weary shoulders

than it is a

relief

the smiles that hang upon our lips

are weights

that drag the rest of our faces down

and a lackadaisical happiness

is better than a real one

7.

big words like

ANTEDILUVIAN

and

FECUND

seem to be necessities

for our future success

 

what do they even mean

a guignol

is probably what you

drink on the holidays

hoping others find you to be

sophisticated

before you find yourself

staring at the inside of a plastic bag

and nugatory

may be the word that describes

your friend

pushing you towards the one

who makes your heart

dance inside the oversized jail cell

of your ribcage

with looks that tell you

if the flowers die instead of bloom

she wont be there

and a lacuna

sounds like the azure glass

of a bay in the caribbean islands

ever so slowly

tearing at the chains of

dirt and stone

to meet its brother

on the other side

 

8.

pickle

was once the keeper of dreams

i gave him swords

and knives

and arrows

to keep away the monsters under the bed

until i realized

there are no monsters

more real

than the ones

we become

 

9.

its eleven at night

and im writing this

even though

my math homework isnt done

my tea is half drunk

my brother is crying for a companion

i dont want to go to bed

there may be angels at the four corners

there may be lambs crossing fields

there may be numbers in red

blue

yellow

but

cypresses root between the trenches of my chest

poppies bloom in place of my eyes

and a single white rose sways

in the breeze of my breath.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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