Behind the brown stars,
Wheels are turning;
Cogs are grinding.
She considers the conversation
Skeptically.
She criticizes me.
My rebuttal is weak.
Her sarcasm bites.
Rather than biting back,
I give way.
I acknowledge her dominance
And lock my own eyes
With her brown stars.
(I read a poem likening eyes to stars. Then I got my butt handed to me, with a side of extra-bitter sarcasm, the next day, while the analogy was fresh in my mind. The poem came to me earlier today.)
YOU ARE READING
Behind the Brown Stars
PoetryThis is a Never-Finish type of anthology; I will probably never publish it as a "finished" work and I will constantly be adding to it. This is poetry that just sort of happened. I hope you like it. :) Also, bold-italic font is an author's note.
