Saturday, May 14, 2011

breaking out

In the back of my mind,
I feel those little white spiders
crawling up and over each other,
spinning a wall of some kind,
good or bad? Don't quite know.

I used to find the little spiders everywhere
in the house on Fairmont,
considered them "friends."
To consider them enemies would have been to give them power.

I don't know if that sentence works.
I don't know if my fingers are typing truth
or nothing.

I am behind on a workshop poem.
I don't know if I'm stuck
or feeling reluctant.

I can't find my strong verbs.

Time for magnetic poetry?
Time to find a poem
on the Seventh Day Adventist Church sign
or in the Victoria's Secret catalogue
we started receiving
after I purchased tiny underwear
for my tiny daughter.

It's warm in the house.
My hair is heavy.
My stylist is back in her shop
after six months of working
a different job.

It's been a year since she last
cut my hair
and I tried to look like someone else.

white, downy, curls, waves, froth, frequent, undertow, belly up

No. Nothing to see here. Move along.

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