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wishful filament [dropping the 'I']
by Laura DoomI have a unique ability
she assures me; the coffee
I concoct is pure gold,
the perfect commercial break.
I chew her trash
spit it out
strong and sweet.
I admit to envy: this minor indulgence
constitutes her greatest source of guilt:
and to guilt: my constitution overthrown
by the weak and the sour.
Soon she will empty my head,
soothe my heart in her mouth;
the afterthought of life consumed
by the aftertaste of death. 08/10/2009 Posted on 08/10/2009
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 08/10/09 at 10:42 PM love the opening stanza, i thought i made good coffee. ;) |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 08/13/09 at 10:25 PM I suppose today I am a lamenting eye finding solace in fleeting moments of abundant afterthought that send themselves to me, after any poem I find in your pages. Words can fully fill, afterall. |
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