Double sinks hold caught souls.
On stools and tub hang the pierced, long-eyed,
lip-pickers, rainbow dyed.
How do I know, I ask the new guy, you’re not a narc?
It’s my house, I ask the inappropriate questions.
They all stand up and move smooth like ghosts,
This is a serious suggestion.
We’re cool, it’s cool, though I decide
to let the shock ride.
We chill, I rip leaves to fill piles, stuff high the vase,
the smiles, we settle off and share our thoughts again.
Two lifetimes ago, Catherine performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. Find her on twitter @czickgraf. Watch and read more at www.caththegreat.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment