You, are not just something I write
about – for, of, around or under.
You, are something that flies
so close to my wing then dives
down for a fish.
Does not tell me of the school.
A wise therapist once told me my blue
eyeliner made me look pretty.
She was looking for a way to reach me.
I said thank you.
Then, I told her what I did.
I’m wearing it again.
Where are the fish, friend?
I’m so hungry.
For grouper, sardines.
Fish you hid.
Will you think I look pretty sitting there,
if I survive and come up for air?
I want to tell you what I did.

Photo Credit: 22Lauren 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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