literature

Legs

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TalhinxovxL3v1tat10n's avatar
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Literature Text

here only one direction exists: other, marked on a faded black dotted line
like the line school children wait on for pictures
a scrawl they tell me, was like mine
little bits of line to feed their waiting eyes
and loops and the color blue as accompaniment
but it is only a secret scent! I keep on all the while, writing smaller and smaller
and crumpling the change in my pocket like paper

"it is only a joke" they say
but I still can't capitalize the first letter
crown it as the champion or victor or yesterday
"Yes," that's what I'd tell them,
"Why have today when we still have yesterday"
But they only peeled their moldy fingers
Waiting for spring flowers to grow
But the sun has gone, and I can't see it anymore
I hid it in my head, to watch memories like picture shows

"Why don't you speak what you write" they'd say
why, of course it is because I can't speak, only move my hand like this in a line, you see?
I never really say anything, just what I blame on the passing day
They like to feel December in their toes
Grinding their heels against the sod
If it was Scarlet, they might say it was May
But of course it isn't
It is other, marked on the faded black dotted line
12.07.11
© 2011 - 2024 TalhinxovxL3v1tat10n
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