Nothin Epic in the Epicenter by Lacy D PhillipsEasily, there is more to tell here
than can even be seen.
A pen in hand, one tucked behind an ear
and three in the recesses of my purse
where theyll never be found at need;
and still Id bleed dry of ink
to capture these, the smallest things.
The perfume of peonies,
rather than the look of them,
is what lulls me in the North-facing room .
Its the heavy scent on a light wind
and a handmade afghan,
more than the weight of the afternoon
that send me off dreaming
hours before I need be.
A lazy sunset wasted
in front of a TV
thats not even plugged in.
Justin doodled little cockandballs
in the dust on the screen
last time he was by.
And I laugh,
and try to arrest,
try to attest to
this moment. 05/26/2003 Posted on 05/28/2003 Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Alex Smyth on 05/28/03 at 05:18 AM You have captured the details that make the reality too strong, the solitude too heavy, the echo of what is missing too silent. Beautiful and poignant. |
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