still has the price tag on the back
neon orange sticker
warning me
that for a $1.99
broken
wounded lines
will scatter themselves
in black ink
visible in the sunlight
scrawled over
torn pages
until the crisp cover
is worn
down
a hundred days of verse
upturned
by the rage of existence
separate me from the stones
rolling in shallow river water
set me heavy
against the current
until I am smooth
from the turning
you will be
the only witness
catching drops in the creases
hidden beneath to cover
fingertips reaching out
to hold what cannot
be touched
keeper now
between two pale cards
like cupped hands
drinking
along the riverbank
balanced
on the
edge
toes grip the sand
drink deeply
before letting go
once more
make room for more
more stones
broken wings
tears
laughter
sunlight dancing in the ripples
I watched you go
with the clouds
another storm passing
wind bending
the trees low
tearing the earth
like paper
until
stillness stumbles in
held my breath long enough
before going under
turn the page
to write I love you
the poetry of
wildflowers
caught in the reeds.
~
day 3
national poetry month
