image from istockphoto.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the Christmas tree exhales needles. tinsel, unspooled, clings to bare ankles like a ghost. leftovers huddle in foil, their edges curling into salty commas. I unfold the couch, pressing creases from bows meant to be saved~ but the trash bag yawns, hungry for glitter. The cat bats a stray hook across the floor, wondering where the paper mountains went.
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.
