Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity


Assuming the pop of distant fireworks provides sufficient cover,
The neighbors fuck loudly, then fight, then clatter mundanely in the kitchen
While I stand on the kids’ play table watching the moon and stars
And the uppermost slice of colorful explosions,
Craving the resonant sternum-throb
Which does not come. It’s too far
And the puny plunking and spray of sparks
Cannot compete with the moon and the stars and the neighbors
So I dip inward, slip under the sternum to a place increasingly familiar
And whisper: “boom.”



Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: