i push my finger in
like a boy tests the water
with his foot
like a coward
.
i twirl the cord in my hand
like a girl twists her curls
into the contort and curves of a slide
like an angel
.
the phone must be full of crickets
the hum is light and warm:
icecream on Sunday nights
beach towels and chlorine
.
the wheel spins- it is
the loading of a gun
that only i wish would
squirt
.
i am connected to God.
Her voice is tired and kind
a Lion in the Sun
dazed and unbothered
.
i continue to wrap the rope
of an age long past
around my fourth finger-
and Hang
Up.
long time no see. i’ve been working on a painting for art, as shown above. it’s of the potamac. i took it while the trees were still autumn-dusted. the poem was fun to write, it kinda just happened. critiques are cool. do what you want. comment what you want. have a good night.
I want to know what you were thinking when you wrote this. I like it but want MORE. Great Job JAMIE!!!!!
I love the poem and art, is that watercolor? The colors work really well together.