24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Life streamed in a rectangle
Farm
Shrine
Village square
Home
Until… the slave trade came
Life shrunk into a triangle
Office
Worship
Home
Until…the virus came
The virus came
It locked us down
It masked our collective breaths
We walk the earth like masquerades
From sunup to sun down
Then life goes round in a circle
Work
Home
Repeat
Mother asked the other day
Which is the worse slay?
Slavery or this virus?
Twain have dire consequences
Death.
Krypto the super-hound has a new cape
Her soaring freedom flag replaced by a recovery shirt
curiosity and prey drive dulled in medicated half-life
lulling the body into restorative sleep.
I miss my perky girl and our forrest play,
grateful this is only temporary, unlike her final journey
when the warm puff of her sleeping breath upon my skin will only be a memory.
I cherish each moment with hearty gratitude.
Common sense isn’t rare
a foundation made of sand
the ship rose from the bottom
I’m living mouth to hand
Everyone went crazy
pretending they were sane
to me it’s not a tragedy
if I only had a brain
Everywhere there’s people tripping
I got nowhere left to fall
some afraid of losing something
but I never had it all
I got my senses
I see where the train is headed
climbing ropes unravel
but my string was never threaded
The world starts spinning
wrongside round
faster than a flash
gravity stopped pointing down
nearly broke but I got cash
mask
wash hands
shelter in place
mask
eyes only
miss your face
hands
palms up
miss holding yours
sheltered
feel lonely
miss your presence
promise to care
promise complete
complete control
complete the puzzle
puzzle not broken
puzzle to solve
solve a riddle
solve for x
x too harsh
x to avoid
avoid the camera
avoid the lights
lights blind me
lights to condemn
condemn this kindness
condemn assigned gender
gender all pink
gender dirty snake
snake hiss hiss
snake settled around
around my wrist
around my neck
neck very vulnerable
neck all exposed
exposed and tense
exposed to bite
bite now sharp
bite catches breath
breath of fingers
breath born
born from pain
born of submit
submit as play
submit to implement
implement the hoax
implement an escape
escape to freedom
escape the pain
pain in chest
pain to agree
agree to diminish
agree to hide
hide from him
hide away heart
heart in cage
heart safe
safe cracking
safe in ice
ice
cracking
So I ask myself
What is normal anyway.
What are the guidelines
For being normal
Are there rules?
Are there regulations?
Do we measure up
Or fall short
Of societies expectations?
I don’t know about you
But how to be normal
I have no clue.
What does normal look like
Does it look like me
Does it look like you
Is is black and white
Or is it red and blue
Normal isn’t really normal
That’s the honest truth.
Normal according to who
What normal is to me
May not be normal to you
But the fact remains
We are all see normal differently
If normal was a movie
There would have to be a sequel.
Our perception of what normal is
Is too broad to be considered equal.
Rebelí
Letters. Words. Numbers
and images
Not enough
I need
Worlds. Creatures. Powers
and silences
A new feeling
A new definition
A new poem
You and me
drowns his worries
in a bathtub,
compartmentalizing
and filling each
thought into a bottle
to pour out
shot by shot
another day
one at a time
or too many at once till he
is drunk on the confusion
swimming in what
overwhelmed feels like
there is time for
everything but worry,
worry always grabs
at the scraps of whatever
it can reach so
giving it an inch is
almost impossible
like a single shot
at a party he
doesn’t want to remember
like a single note
of a song he once
listened to on replay
what use are noise cancelling
headphones when
the voices inside
are too loud
Michellia Wilson
Poetry Marathon Hour 7 (2021)
GO WHERE THE WORDS TAKE YOU
if you see them dangling –
grab them,
pull them to safety;
if you see them laying on the floor,
fragile, broken,
gently pick up the pieces;
if they slice your flesh,
let the wounds bleed,
to cleanse and purify;
if you find them
scattered in the palms of your hands,
let them play;
if they tip toe in your sleep,
for in your dreams,
let them be and just go where the words take you.
Ruminations on Breath
Breath is a shoe lined with moleskin
holding my foot in its soft hand.
Breath carries liquid crystals to my blood
filling my head with full spectrum light.
Breath wants to be a fighting beta from the pet store
with more colors than any one eye can contain.
Breath dreams of a cabin in the woods filled with the
casings of pine smoke and musty old cots.
Breath wants to be held like a baby cocooned
in flannel blankets and carried through the snow.
Breath thirsts for a muddled mojito
to wear with pink fuzzy house slippers.
Breath grows into a sequined jazz singer
in a smoky nightclub who wants all eyes on her.
Breath has a packed suitcase by the front door
ready to blow out of here first chance she gets.