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The Wings We Lack
May 15, 2012
Converse.
My mother’s sweater.
Clean that up
No sandwich for you.
Tie dye and fizzy tea
It’s not okay
What does this look like to you?
You’re wrong.
More of a man than you are
No weave of golden hair.
I’ve never been too good with secrets
Not always gold.
Bursting of looms
Send droplets soaring
Across the stale air
And into thine eye
As I jump into bed
And fall fast asleep.
Dreaming.
Further extensions of my crooked thoughts
A daily occurrence
Unfulfilled longing
Closer now.
Healing from the outside in
Goodbye and good luck.
© Andrew S., Pompton Plains, NJ
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