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Abigail Larimore Poem
The incessant rhythm of your work
Ever pounding on the insides of my skull
You needed to write it down
And I hated it
I remember I had my bad habits as well
Filling myself with the same billows that dashed our dreams of Paris
My scarlet remnants marring the white, rolled paper
In the same fashion my kisses trailed your frame
Here I sit, missing you
Short one golden family heirloom
I turn its twin over in my hands
Feeling the full breadth of my sorrows
I kept the ticket you bought me
Undisturbed, it sits in my drawer
Undisturbed I sit in this room
I’m not sure where you sit
All I know is it’s not with me
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2014
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Abigail Larimore Poem
How I love the evenings when I walk
into the deep, cerulean night
I pray to God, don’t let him knock.
He parades around the sins I lock
away and try to keep from sight
How I love the evenings when I walk.
He tempts me then to join his flock
may my soul not give to such benight
I pray to God don’t let him knock.
He points me to the ticking clock,
this beast, I know I cannot fight.
How I love the evenings when I walk.
It’s we sheep whom he does love to stalk
tangled up in all our plight
I pray to God don’t let him knock.
So if you hear his voices mock
they’ll drain you of remaining light.
How I love the evenings when I walk
I pray to God don’t let him knock.
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2015
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Abigail Larimore Poem
I spend a lot of time crying
I spend a lot of time daydreaming
About how things could be
Or how I wish they were
Or perhaps those two are the same
I spend a lot of time remembering sadness so well
That it makes me sad again
I spend a lot of time being sad
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2014
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Abigail Larimore Poem
I am so lonely
I am off my pills
I am sitting in church, listening to my father spew his message
My eyes are becoming wet
As he ages, he becomes set in his ways
I don't think he realizes the force of his harsh words
There is nothing I can say
I sit next to my mother, a healthy three feet between us
Any closer and I cringe
She stands to testify though the others before her stay seated
I do not admire it
Their fiery spirits encourage the congregation
However, they just make me feel lonely
How's college?
Do you have a boyfriend?
I am off my pills
I smile small and shake my head, eyes turning down
No, I am alone
I am alone and off my pills
I am alone, and off my pills, and I daresay I'm more in touch with my doubt than my faith right now
I drove separately and parked far from the building
I leave church by myself
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2015
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Abigail Larimore Poem
And what we thought we knew
As a bag of tricks
A stock of lies
And at the end of my bruises you can see
We are alright, no thanks to you
I was a believer
In your words
Till you beat her
Now all of your gestures
They gesture in vain
You’ll never win me
You may as well turn around
And drive on home
And every time you pass
That blasted brick structure
I hope you see the faces
Of the people you murdered
Not just their bodies
But spirits and souls
You’ll never be noble
You’re no good at all
And these are the things
My heart wants to say
And these are the things
My flesh seeks to speak
But i am done hoarding
All your transgressions
For every one of yours
There’s a million for me
And misunderstandings
Of what really went on
Fly around on
The insides of my brain
All I recall are black holes and spaces
I’m an empty room
I’m a girl with no name
The memories of you
Would darken me
They were like solar eclipses
Like sand in your eyes
Or ticks in your skin
You should feel everything that we did
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2014
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Abigail Larimore Poem
Fastened in my arms, I rock our
embrace back and forth til
her ivory lids slump
downward in forfeit.
Her wee nails fold into
a prayer, as her rosy bottom lip
juts out, all lustrous and glossy.
I open my mouth and sing
the songs my own mother
used to trill so long ago.
As her limbs shift, preparing
herself for a wide yawn,
all of Heaven and Earth stands still,
awaiting her vestal roar.
The slight rise and fall of her
fragile chest commands in myself
a reverence that has never
before looked me in the eyes.
This girl does not belong
to me; nor do I want her for my own,
but her gentle pulse thumping
against my chest reminds me
that the emptiness she rests upon
is a vessel. Mother and Grandmother
beseech me to hurry; I won't always
have my youth. We dance in the circles
of my endless refusal, their denial
careening above. For all of my
reservations, I cannot refute the enlightenment
that now washes over me. Then tiny feet kick
to waken, and a sulky howl meets
my ears. This girl does not belong
to me, nor does she need to, for
in our encirclement, I am a mother.
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2015
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Abigail Larimore Poem
Today I found a secret inside of myself.
Reaching through my bones and past
my marrow, I clutched it tight and pulled
with gusto to free it from my essence. As
I examined it from top to bottom, weighing
The silvery trinket in my hands, a fervor
quickened in my belly. It urged me to spew
my new-found erudition. It was this day that
I noticed you as I never had before. Your
flaxen hair sat on you shoulders, lazily dancing
down your back. I wanted to touch it and to
twirl it in my fingers. My hands were fitted
with gloves. The secret could not be covered
in smudges and prints when it arrived and your
eyes devoured it. I prepped the secret, polishing
its streaked surface. There- I could see my own
reflection. Gently, I laid it inside the perfect
depression that was waiting to give cradle to
my fondness. Ah, it was a superb fit. As I
closed the lid, I said a prayer, that you would
receive it, and receive it well.
Copyright © Abigail Larimore | Year Posted 2015
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