Tend to discredit myself as hypocrite,
keeps the peace, a loud pajama
knife of a woman, who, when has to spit,
spits, when no one is around,
stays behind to smoke a cigarette.
Every attempt to side, foiled by flits
of this is a little wrong, a little right.
I push twin mattresses together.
When I sleep, the seam is my night,
quiet, I grow freeform spine, emerge
another hunchback from all this trauma.
I carry myself in a whopping skirt,
goatkid-white, I ring them bells!
Drama plays deserve their drama.
play of words skewed, off balanced, keeps reader intrigued; a funny-sad sort of self-alingment, a dollop of heartbreak and always the striking image
a rebirth from mattress
awkward from night.
crooked nude hermit crab
no shell in sight.
Love how this begins, love how it ends too, but particularly that “knife of a woman, who, when has to spit / spits.” What a telling image.
Keeps the peace, a loud pajama! Love it quite a reflective poem with great lines.
The language in this poem is scrumptious!
I love this
The shift of “I push twin mattresses together” is so effective. I love the contrast of pajamas with knife, the image of Mary-had-a with a dash of Pan.
I enjoyed getting to know you better through this poem