Black Drapes and Plastic Fingers
Awhile back my soul took a wrong turn
sometimes I wonder was I a tough birth
did I come out feet first
like a blue faced luge runner
banking right then left onto the icy cuff
launching into a starless pit of nothingness-
Maybe your breasts were filled with booze
not enough nurture.
Maybe a bit to much old fashioned strap
from steppingstone mother
for the most minor infractions.
Without love to temper stings
life is just one big muddy slog
void of any spring-
I'm hesitant-simple decisions are difficult.
and that ever present haze of mistrust
once sparkling relations turning diamonds into dust-
Maybe I snapped when that pissed off farmer.
wrapped a dead snake around my neck-
For freeing his herd of cows-now I'm a bit of a control freak.
Wanting to palm butterflies and honeybees.
Maybe It was that fifth grade "teacher"(you know who you are).
With the strong cologne and loose hands-
That made me into a quicksand man.
Everybody I meet gets sucked into the ooze.
I need to let it all go-clean the mental lint trap.
but these sun crushers, present and past.
keep arriving in sleek sharky waves.
Bearing loose plastic fingers and black satin drapes-
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment