A Smell of Sand by S. Pelham FloodLike the sand
I can't control my fate
the wind can bend trees
I stand no chance
I have no roots
just flippant truancy
a job that pays
a bed too big
a dependence on tequila.
Before you, I was sand
When the sun rose
I was sand
a part among many
I touched people
but they moved on
swept me back.
When the moon
broke through cloud
I laid there, dull like many
but you came
the wind
and I float
a flag with no pole
a finch, no nest.
Turn me into paint
maybe a stroke of red
among blues and flesh
keep me
on anchors in drywall
I'm tired of wind. 11/01/2008 Posted on 11/02/2008 Copyright © 2024 S. Pelham Flood
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/03/08 at 01:28 AM Intriguing metaphor. Tired of the wind or tequila? Maybe some relationship there! |
Posted by Nanette Bellman on 11/03/08 at 07:09 PM tequile is a terrible dependence. i would know. and a bed too big, oh my. very great images here and moving as well. |
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