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walter's new apartment
by Meghan Helmichworking at carving, weaving
these platters of child into something.
mother would nod some kind
of slight and focused approval
at these mounds of carpet
and inflatable bit furniture.
we stare at ourselves behind
eyelids and smile our secret
wishes of love and warm meals --
we wake early to earn each
others' balanced judgements
of these relationships.
tell everyone that the black
doesn't drip from the corners
of our mouths.
in shapes of old candle breaths. 12/25/2006 Posted on 02/25/2007
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by D. James McKee on 02/11/08 at 02:43 PM What a lovely and intimate snapshot of growth and hope! “tell everyone that the black doesn't drip from the corners of our mouths. in shapes of old candle breaths.” Gorgeous writing! Well done, Meghan!
This one goes straight to favourites!
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