I stare into the mouth of the abandoned train tunnel
and see only feathers. The old Rite Aid is now a haunted house.
The world I gave up looks at me with three dark eyes.
One of them is glass and I can’t tell which.
The ring that could have been mine flutters down to the starry
bottom of the pool. She looks nothing like me.
Her heart is a dinner table with starched napkins.
This lion I just met at dinner opened his glittering mouth
and asked me to place my head inside.
I am not afraid.
3 comments:
I love it!
oh, Jamie, I miss your words.
the written ones that hug
the paper under your hand
and the ones that cross
the space between us
when you visit,
stopping at my ear
just long enough,
then sailing away,
forevering themselves
through trees
across waters
along horizons
Great work, Jamie! you have lived a lot.where the wisdom comes from. experience is the best teacher. Looking forward to more. cm
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