by Rachelle Howe
I lie when I’m drunk.
the morning yawns my memory and I
am pleasured to know you when I’m
a masked mess and utterly grateful for the im-
prints which you leave me turned inside out nocturnal and
grateful for the pleasure of knowing you on Tuesday.
But there is a mysterythat you crack me open with
like a egg and an omelet and your epiphany was
scrambled like Alzheimer’s and that young boy who
knew you that one day that one time that memory that you
loved so much like skipping stones on the river that one Sunday.
But you scrambled me like a white noise mixed with sassafras and a SOS symbol
Emitted and transmitted with murphy s law.
Everything that must go wrong will go wrong and you wrote me
Across the chalk board of your past and I’m waiting for you in your future
like a dialtone
for you to
Author's Note: I'm still hungover. Haha.
Posted on 04/12/2013
Copyright © 2021 Rachelle Howe
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Angela Stevens on 04/12/13 at 03:56 PM|
First line hit me on a personal note like a bolt. I loved reading this piece. Thank you for sharing.
|Posted by George Hoerner on 04/12/13 at 05:20 PM|
Most of my lying is done to myself. And I've just done too much waiting for someone to answer that phone.
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/13/13 at 04:32 PM|
And you're still a phenom. Outstanding.
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 06/28/17 at 01:02 PM|
Quite emotional and touching. Congratulations on POTD.