Inheritance
Posted on 11 February 2010
This sweet dimness
that invades me—
saddles me, rolls me
in cotton and files me away
with ancient morgue signatures
affixed to my clever white socks—
hopes
that no one will notice
how slipped away I’ve become,
comfortable (spending the rest of my days
as a detainee, squirreling tunnels
of escape under my arms),
but occasionally an inexplicable sun comes out
(no relation to me) revealing the blistering earth
with its nasty aroma of coffee and foamed milk
and I’m handed cherries
and sat beside an insistent child
singing loud, unintelligible songs.
2 responses to Inheritance
I always loved “spoken” poems. It remembers me my childhood, mom reading from a book at bedtime. Thanks a lot for these comforting moments.
Amy
It’s interesting how often the “child’ in us speaks and maybe sometimes saves us.