All she wanted was a reason.
The hum of cicadas on summer nights
could never have been enough.
Too much, too many at once,
No, she needed uncrossable silence,
an ocean of it,
and herself,
alone on a cold island.
What can laughter be?
Monster or man, but mostly monster.
Sunset or sunrise, but always
there is dark in between.
Reason or reason, but never the good kind.
she knows what it could have been
and does not see it
for a cicada singing in a warm shower.
No, she thinks her allowance has run dry.
Just that one taste
on that one day,
must sustain her for years.
It isn't true for the them,
only for the singular she.
And look where it got her.
They are gnats, choking the air with their numbers.
they are grains of sand,
wherever we walk, no matter how we clean,
there is no washing away a beach.
All of these reasons.
She only wanted one.
YOU ARE READING
Bent Roses
PoetryBent Roses is a poetry collection about familial devotion, love, and misery. It is about those nights when everyone gets home late and the first thing they say to each other is good morning. It is about believing in another person when you shouldn't...
