SORRY! Didn't have a comp this weekend.
Poem for Saturday is here!
Here's my poem:
SICK
Barely conscious of the difference,
we hustle along the bridge, trying to get across
before the storm's throw reaches. When I want
to smile, I smile, no matter what you say, and I
also feel it's time to clean my closet: off-white
shirts face out like teeth and bother me. They
want to drape around my shoulders and
instruct me like an angel and a devil in a cartoon.
On the way back, the bridge blows mist and cold.
I want it to be dark like this at the end of my life,
I want it to mean you have to work to die.
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