Places I Don'T Belong
In your arms
or thoughts swirling in the density of mad clouds
A circle of friends drunk on happiness
At home, where a mother and father
once understood but no longer see straight
he is a drunk and she a waiting room lady with a magazine
By the side of a hurting friend
who flails like a dead fish in angst
only to not heed an attempt to pull the hook
Under the smirking sun
stripping the flesh from brittle bones
the better to burn away a heretic, my dear
On this earth, a musty orb
savage and dried as a backroom prune
leaking the dreams of what could have been
if I were welcome there
Copyright © Chris Kane Jr. | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment