Fast one or notA Poem by _mal
Good
morning morning time.
Tip tap them out into my palm as the jug whistles and the kids caw for their breakfast lunchboxes are packed and clouds of vapor are directed out the open door I swallow three, then four and five and blithely blend a smoothie Smoothing ointment on her neck Where tiny fingers scratch Repeating loudly “Your clothes are on the table” as toast is hoovered up by hungry mouths or spat out On the floor I washed last night, because the ratio of bread to avocado wasn’t right, when the meds weren’t quite enough to stop me compulsively staring for signs of life “Your clothes are on the table. Your clothes are on the table.” Eventually we make it out to bird song and a little drizzle from a clear sky Start the exploratory mission we make the same way Every day to school. The meds make opening the gate a nothing. Strength is the distance between me and feeling it’s when something makes it past… frightening to remember how far there is to fall, or that at my core there may be nothing. If i'm alone. Cocooned © 2020 _malReviews
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1 Review Added on September 29, 2019 Last Updated on December 16, 2020 Author
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