All these dogs still alive in the world,
still the runnings and jumpings and snarfing downs of dinners
and you’re not one of them.
Joy is unbeautiful beauty,
joy is a paradox.
The sorrow of what has happened,
and the sorrow of my sight of it,
so the delight of my memory of it,
so the being of it.
You were really on my chest
We really grew up beside each other
And Damn. Im alive.
things are serious
and possible
and with consequence
and poetry
and fur
and skin
Categories:
unbeautiful, death, dog, joy, life,
Form: Free verse
Urban dictionary says "narwhal; an amazing, magical combination of a unicorn and whale"- oh ok,
I'm sure one can find beautiful things about a narwhal. The same way we find beautiful things in raindrops and matching sock. And like all beautiful things we write about there are always things that threaten the inhabitants of those thoughts implanted in our subconscious. There is something so personal about comparing ourselves to beautiful things and then pinning terrible things to the people that make us unbeautiful.
Like... I am a narwhal. And how I swim through my sea of thoughts, filled with colorful imagination. And how the only thing that makes me thankful for the Horn on my existence is you. Sleeping soundly in the oil spills that linger in my blowhole- despite the fact that the word "blowhole" is super unpoetic! Even more than the word super.
But that's how you make my little metaphorical narwhal heart feel! You're the one with the harpoon words and gallons upon gallons of wasteful, wishful thinking that you're better than me. GOD DIDNT GIVE A UNICORN HORN! HUH?! No that was ME!
Categories:
unbeautiful, abuse, animal, beautiful, feelings,
Form: Free verse