Ars Poetry Club
Well Wednesdays…
Wednesdays are for watercolor wet eyed gentle kisses to the sweet setting sun
It's possible to walk stiff legged + sure footed towards nightfall
when its just me making metaphor out of molehill
Lust + Laundry looming clumsy over every big idea for the night
But take a Left on Newton + a threshold to another normal opens around you
Syllable-sweet and adverb-heavy
Tea-brewed and tongue crude
Olive oil rich and testosterone poor
Early draft honesty and clumsy confessions
Here is the self I have always and never known
It becomes a collective consciousness how far down the candle burns
Fresh cut, nowhere near finished,
but ready to be reread.
To linger. To archive. To ache.
Let my eye sparkling and insufferable,
read, write and remember.
With the lack of shame in being earnest.
If God so loved the world she wrote a poem every Wednesday
God, I hope she loves me just the same.