The Vessel
My voice is a hollow vessel
where words spiral down
into a whirling dust storm
and exit dirty and unwanted
as if riding on the hooks
of some God-forsaken 120 degree desert.
No specific value has ever been
assigned to the words
that stick in my throat
and always leave like
a mumbled mishmash-
a jar of miscellaneous buttons
with threads pieces
hanging on in disbelief.
A lone vowel has gone off
like a disciplined child-
her pink mary jane's scruffing
the barren sidewalk with utter disdain.
Consonants drift and drown
into a muddled pond
overgrown with hanging algae.
Copyright © Dawnell Harrison | Year Posted 2019
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