As the nights spill a little more into morning,
I try to make peace with what I haven’t done.
Spiders cache their hours in dark corners,
I squander mine on email and Sex in the City reruns.
Inchworms line the doorjamb for warmth,
curl into accusations when I flick them out.
What rush? Where to? Birds’ yo-yo
branch to ground, call soon, soon.
Leaf miners abandon their spreadsheets
to the earthworms. Let them finish
the work left undone. Turkey vultures circle
the bride and groom, a preemptive I do.
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I'm not sure if my editing skills are helped or hindered by red wine. This is a poem that has images I like, but I'm not sure what to keep, what to lose, where this poem needs to be pushed more. If you have any suggestions, please let me know!
2 comments:
I really ReallY like the first four stanzas - You grabbed me, but then you lost me after that, and I wasn't sure where you wanted to take me.
Hey Bren,
Some excellent lines and some questions I've asked myself many a time. What rush indeed!
This, for example...
"Inchworms line the doorjamb for warmth,
curl into accusations when I flick them out."
...is very nice.
I agree with Marjo as to the end of the poem, mostly because I couldn't see the spreadsheets or guess who/what the bride and groom were.
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