a poem for today, 18 September 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of nine sentences and its image]
Conversations can sometimes come to an abrupt standstill; a force so powerful you can actually feel the friction burn your lips as the conversation skids to a grinding halt.
You have no sense of the belt.
Maybe my name has become a joke.
You act like you expect an apology.
I picked the scabs as they healed.
The whole thing is sort of demoralizing.
You're so fat your toilet got shocks.
Your body language speaks a thousand words.
You can never be my hero now.