Inherited Jawbones
I’ve taken up polishing skulls.
Not trophies,
just my kin—
their sockets still
echoing
what they aren't
ready to hear.
Though it's only
what they've said
themselves.
I never knew
what reckoning meant
however,
in terms of preparation,
that is,
my training
for the abrasing escalation
of the manner
in which they've behaved?
That's easy,
I crack pebbles now,
knuckles before a fight,
teeth on a dare—testing
hollow sentiments.
It's kept me protected,
but I will say this:
it hasn't attracted many fans.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
