again?

 

 

Not another love poem. Not another rose tipped rostral from my itemized list of those who left

and those who came and stayed around. The potted plant, well recieved, died anyway.What did

you expect, without water or sunlight; without the slightest caring or conservative, lit window?

The last time you left, I broke out. A red rash covered my arms and legs. Not another rash. Not

another trip to Rite-Aid with my list of adverbs and my sabotaged dream.No more blue and white

uniforms, thank you. Not another long walk on this dangerous knee. Im'e tired of walking. And

the section of the river I liked to walk by has grown cold as your temptation.

 

Not another love poem comparing your face, your hair, to the cotton of the congregation.

What chapter is this anyway?

The second reading;

the June garden still  unplanted

and your red bangs

teased out.

Reviews

[writing mojo]

Wow! what display of love in the absence of comfort, the thick scab and the burns, waiting for a new skin in tongue and cheek forms , amazing stuff!

[Audrey Howitt]

The potted plant, well recieved, died anyway.

i loved this line--i loved this piece---

[Emily B]

i've bought enough benadryl and cortisone cream to fill a small town pharmacy for a week or two

some days are better than others