Even the Light
You look out and the sunbeam blinks –
a difference in brightness
on the drooping seeds.
Some days nothing gets done.
We live with the unwashed,
with stacks of mail, the unfolded,
the incomplete. Phrases pop out
only to crawl away, and later,
reincarnated in other forms,
embed themselves just under
the skin, calcifying. Scratch
as you might, no relief appears.
Your tongue grows heavy
from shaping these words.
Even the light subtracts.
* * *
“Even the Light” was published in the May 2017 issue of La Presa.
O at the Edges 
That’s January. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is, indeed!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem describes how I’ve felt this January. I am slowly coming around to put myself together back where I need to be.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is a process…
LikeLiked by 1 person
The mail! It’s always the mail for me. Nice work. I enjoyed its dimness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Kelly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great image of crumpled page! Itchy phrases reforming under the skin … yikes, that is so real.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those phrases can be so annoying!
LikeLiked by 1 person
beautiful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much!
LikeLike