Okay But What Do I Say?
The poem you wrote missed my heart
it had no words of emotional chew.
After reading the words, what could I say
you'd said them all but they added up to okay.
When I slithered over the alphabet,
I smelled no phew, grit never stuck, water didn't drip.
And then there are the times when my hands
kept tapping so fast so furious I just sat back
didn't have any more energy and to snip snap
clackety-clack was plain wiped out of my self.
But the most times I miss the comment and viewed
Susie was in love, heart broken, in a stew
the eye of the needle, the jump over the moon,
the clock ticking all sounded just good,
but I had no newness from you
when I needed the pain sizzle of lightning,
a jigjag jangle against purple while orange daisies
danced a jig on the grave of enemy number one
boring, ordinary life in a cage with no ale biting tongue
no kisses probing into the curls under my toes.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2010
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