|
11/3/11
by Meghan HelmichAfter the flight
and the humming of tires on the road
as I drive across town
to my studio apartment,
I open the door and drop the baggage
I've been carrying since I was twelve
and too tall and smart
to make friends
who wouldn't gut me when I looked away.
Now the fish swim upstream
flashing silver and gold,
bones and blood still inside,
their bellies untouched 11/04/2011 Posted on 11/04/2011
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/04/11 at 08:43 PM You seem to be pretty limitless in coming up with fascinating imagery to drive your stories home. This was lovely. |
| Posted by Leslye Writer on 11/05/11 at 12:29 AM
drop the baggage I have been carrying since I was twelve ........
great implications in that ..........!!!
|
| 
