When we were young there were no telephones.
There were no shoes or socks.
We laughed among the berry bushes
and sat on sharp-edged rocks.
We drank the dew from snail shells,
and sucked the nectar from
lilies, lilacs, and honeysuckles.
We'd ravage floors and lick up crumbs.
When we were young there were no bathrooms,
only privies in tight shacks.
Our gardens smelled of piss and rot and rainwater
spitting gems upon our backs.
We used to dance there naked
and the mud crawled up our legs.
We held hands and sung nonsense
and hunted robins' eggs.
Vines coiled through our hair and in between our toes.
Bees, flowers, and pill bugs
sprung from my nose.
When we were young there were no telephones.
Our talking cans would rust.
Our skin would crack and bleed and burn
as we laid in forest dust.
Squirrels would steal our bread crumbs.
Snails' slime would stick our lips.
My voice beamed like rays of sun,brilliant, broken and gone
Siphoned through the tinny wires
of the telephone.
YOU ARE READING
Rotten Pleasantness: Dark & Strange Poems and Prose
PoetryMy first chapbook is full of things dark and strange. These 24 poems and flash pieces work to demonstrate the loss of innocence to the dark forces surrounding us. The reader is invited on a journey through childhood nostalgia, teenage awkwardness...
