get fat
like cats and balloons and oceans
and boys and purses and Dante's Inferno
get fatter than fat
and once you've reached
the last little notch
on the scale
get thin
within seconds
and start the whole thing
over again
then you'll be able to feel
weightlessness
you'll finally be without gravity
like the ballsy astronauts are right now
in the folds of the big black blanket everyone calls
space.
at least that's what the drunk
on my doorstep told me
last night as I
poured him
another
one.
YOU ARE READING
little blue flowers
PoetryA collection of original poetry by Ella Petrichor. Highest Rank: #152 in Poetry (6/14/18) **COMPLETED** ::Excerpt:: "betrayal along the seams" A melancholic pallor lining her face She stood in the doorway Beating the shit out of that old rug As thou...
