Years Old
Posted by Marion Smallwood | Filed under Poetry, Print
With change as steady as the way wallets empty and old cars pace,
I stop and pin constancy to a dorm room wall–
a dozen glossy paper mirrors.
I stare and I am again, who I’ve always been–
the narrator of a funny short story
the neon yellow laces in a black shoe
a first grade art project
a laugh that is so still in all it’s chaos it has no sound.
But I am no longer that much fun
and it doesn’t matter if I write poems with crayons.
The white walls of my room
with all it’s techni-color memories, and posters and glossy paper mirrors
just don’t seem like a giant coloring book anymore.
(simplifying two)
Posted by Cortney Charleston | Filed under Poetry
I always wanted to write you
A poem on glass.
Something beautiful.
Transparent.
The type of rare that’s inexpensive.
Break it. Give it to you.
Have you put the letters
Back together for me.
It’ll be a brilliant metaphor.
You won’t know it.
And I will
Thank you for returning
My feelings.
(one)
