A Beautiful Crashing

You are right, like always.
I will not take one other step without said approval.

I only want to be on your road but look and see –
you haven’t invited me – so I float and scamper

saying this and that, trying to get your attention,
and the attention of the good and somber trees,

of war-time gravestones – sit up and look at me!
Look how hard I am trying not to be a casualty.

It’s always been easy for me. Easy to ruin, lock lips
with bones and fade away – shoplifting sex, burying hatchets.

Easy to be the hurricane, not the stripped sail, the rotten meat,
the ruined life. I fly like chaos because I look like a beautiful

crashing. It’s safely landing which confounds my little brain.
It’s love shared in a calm manner that makes my skin crawl

with the ants I imported just for these occasions.
They keep their stingers out, always on defense.

Photo Credit: MsSaraKelly Flickr via Compfight cc

Elisabeth Horan

Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She writes to survive and survives to write - We are all battling something. Let's support each other. Elisabeth enjoys riding horses and caring for her cats, chickens, goats and children (not necessarily in that order). She teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.

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