Dizzy like tomorrow's plan,
this life is nothing but fierce;
you must hold a door open
for some fresh air to push its way
through the crow of your heart:
the black open ditch
where you place sins
stack them like grocery store cartons,
sins spicy as peppers on death row.
Before you fear the rust of time,
before you flinch at red lights and panic,
plan for tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Richelle,
ReplyDeleteI like what you did with these words.
"where you place sins
stack them like grocery store cartons"
Exceelent!
Pamela
What Flaubert said! Nice work! :)
ReplyDeleteIt's got such a strong finish with "Before you fear the rust of time, before you flinch at red lights and panic, plan for tomorrow" ...it just creates a powerful visual of how necessary that fresh air is!
ReplyDeleteI love the "sin" imagery here! Wonderful work!
ReplyDeleteRichelle, all of this is great but especially the last line (you have a talent for this) plan for tomorrow. Well done, poet.
ReplyDeletewow again!
ReplyDelete