With Apologies to Laura Numeroff**
And the kind, inquisitive clerk inquires, ‘does she journal?’
(exclamation point)
Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
And the kind, inquisitive clerk inquires, ‘does she journal?’
(exclamation point)
A mountain so wide the horizon could not contain it The path rough and boulder-strewn, here a plain, then stumbling again through the dark undergrowth towards the top. We left for this journey in the light— someone keeps stealing it away. Sun rays appear in glimmers through the trees, a flutter here and there Revealing life,…
We’ve been informed we are flying at 29,000 feet (approximately) above the face of the Earth, suspended (how? by speed, lift and whatnot) like a moving planet jettisoned in a line moving at the speed of sound (light?). Refreshments are served, secured with invisible payments traveling via plastic and magnets swiped by staff standing still as…
The tonnage of this load exceeds all legal limits; the bridge cannot be crossed. Its crushing weight of granite grief will split the spans and send you spiraling down. Unless (and I am no engineer) the load is properly distributed on this barren, buckling asphalt, heaving under the pressures of your shattered, tear-stained hearts. We…
I flatten myself carpetside, legs parallel as the lines of a crosswalk,arms a perpendicular “T”to my torso, aching as theystretch (or do they stretchand therefore ache?) Open-bodiedstance releases all weight of this weary week.White-flagging my way to the floora wide space spans my once-tightpalms, now held by an invisiblesilken thread index to index.Sprung free from…
I wanna wear rainbow-striped leggings like Carly or a bright pink tutu with Zoe’s sparkly shirt. I’d like pigtails or a vivid purple flower clipped in my hair. I’d like to run with abandon hollering after a ball and do a leaping high five when I catch it. I want to jump rope–double-dutch, in fact–…
I stray like string in the wind untethered from that tight spot at the bottom holding me in place. Anchored there tension provides strength for the tune to be played– a fiddler bows across the tautness and chords are plied, played as His fingers hold me in place. Snapped, tho’, the string aflutter, undone there…