I dug kitchen spoons/into unturned earth,/placed fork tines into wood/just to see if it would give./Silver plate flakes and/flatware lacking depth, to the bend,/the facade marched along./You were a drummer with a belt,/but it was not pretend./The circus was a nightmare;/scars, not for tell or show/you unfolded daydreams and crushed them with a blow…/I learned how to love . . . from you/and that destroyed me too/now I know, what love is not/and how, I’m all the stops the poem forgot/
© Grace Black
Today is Day 10 of #OctPoWriMo join me, 31 poems in 31 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 31 in 31!
Love and Ink,