the kind of bad poet with a worse boyfriend

the kind of bad poet with a worse boyfriend September 16, 2016
where else but poetry
can a dropped call
connect with waiting for the clothes drier
on a cold september morning?

i change into warm socks today
and wonder what i would say
if i did hear your voice
for it is true
i can taste your voice
but i cannot remember
how it sounds.

what kind of bad poet
can’t remember sounds?
and what grief for a lover
to begin to forget
to remember she forgets
the voice of her beloved!

but all i hear
for days, for months,
is the wind in the desert
where winter is hinting
that it will want me

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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3 Responses to the kind of bad poet with a worse boyfriend

  1. zdunno03 says:

    Love that last stanza.

    Liked by 1 person

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