Too many juxtapositions
in an already crowded
canvas, and sure-
cornered life
Why do I put a Calvin
(drew, colored, cut out)
whistling
on top of my impressionist
lake watercolor
that my mother told me
needed fine-tuning?
I never made a small impression
I was always a little too loud
I combined colors and sounds
violently
I look like Annie Hall on Monday,
Frida Kahlo on Tuesday,
A hungover Greta Garbo on Wednesday,
Jack Black's twin-sister on Thursday,
a menopausal mess of me on Friday,
and the weekend is simply
a free-for-all
Why can't I love
peacefully?
The whales call their calves
in clicks, and know it better
than I do, up here
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.
