'Til I'm Sanding My Eyes

pick up your feet

It's unusually warm today
Maybe January knows I hate her
and she's trying to change my mind
about the last twenty times we've met
I bought boots to beat the snow
and now what?
I'll just abrade my soles
left heel, left toe
right heel, right toe
'til my feet can feel the cool concrete
and so I'll scrape my toes
and my ankles
my calves and knees and thighs
and all the way up 'til I'm sanding my eyes
and I'll spill into the streets
like a bowl of soup
still simmering in this strangely warm air
a bubbling stew of denim
and microchips
with the flagrant fragrance of cologne
that I have worn for way too long
Then, she can take me in
and sleep for months and let me out
when April needs a shoulder to cry on

Reviews

[Emily B]

this is perfect and singular

and very welcome on a warm january day