I was stuck in the rose bush, you see-
the thorn in my side?
it has prevented me from gaining
It was 3 am, when I decided to address the blood
that had pooled on the old linen sheets
that covered this antique bed.
I suppose bandages help in the short-
Big pictures are far too piercing
for my worn eyes- thirty one years.
twelve of which had been crippled
by a porcelain god.
Yesterday around 6 pm, I saw a goose with her goslings
crossing the railroad tracks by old 51.
I looked for the button to push for the walk signal,
but cars kept passing by.
I drove on- trying to ignore the image
of blood spilled and feathers floating to the
old rocky roadway.
Days are a subtle thing-
watching as my baby pushes a toy along
the carpet with her tongue.
Big pictures these days consist of
managing the grocery store and
making decisions about which fruits
are the least coated in harmful pesticides.
Stone fruits are the worst because you eat the skin-
Porcelain no longer oversees this life-
but I still feel the hole that was left by the thorn.