this poet has nothing to say

when there's nothing to feel...



I see the rain, but the precious

supplemental liquid

seems unable to extend to my roots -

for my flowers have not bloomed.



where is my miracle-grow muse?



//



I am only dressed in this black skirt for you...

I am only breathing because you ask me to.



///



you choose not to fan the dwindling fire...

do you think the forest will spark its own flame?



do you think the television screen will make you

a better husband...?



certain petals are wilting...

and it seems you don't know how to help them thrive...



it seems that you have

misplaced your greenthumb.



I cannot live this way forever...

I need adventure.

I need fruit.

peaches and nectarines...

juice you cannot give me.

05/21/2003

Posted on 05/22/2003
Copyright © 2025 Bethany Lee