woodandhoney

The poem you don’t know you gave me won’t leave me alone

so I carry it around as I ignore the dishes,

I feel its pressure each time I go to a light switch,

each time I run the faucet

I think of packing it up and mailing it to you

I taste it during my first cup of coffee and while I contemplate my second

I hear it when I finally notice that one of my windows is trying to tell me it has rained again this morning

I tell this poem to go outside,

but it digs deep into me,

with claws I didn’t know you had

Tagged: poem