by Paul Marino
i rub my wall
and study the back of my hand
and whisper what i wish i'd said
words worded and her words
and when mother mentions how skinny she's become
and in the morning opens all the drawers
Posted on 09/13/2012
Copyright © 2023 Paul Marino
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/13/12 at 04:05 PM|
Most of us in life could probably fit a few thousand drawers with discarded poems. It doesn't even matter if we write anything to begin with. Great bit, man.
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 05/11/14 at 12:53 PM|
congratulations on POTD. wonderful poem and off the beaten path and it's a good thing the hand has a back, otherwise this ode would have never occurred.