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i leave the marks of my teeth on trees,
quick bites of baby violence,
convincing them to keep their lawsuits quiet.
they have protestless little hands
she's a human with a mouth, they warn
she's a human with a mouth
when i hear voices, i turn quick as a heel
with a sudden cunning to be lost
crumpling up the path and stammering
emptying my pockets
emptying my hands
i bury myself like a bird in a box
my shaking shovel becoming my own guilt-ridden owner
and only when i taste the footsteps above me
do i inhale the languid sighs of dirt,
do i take roots into my hair,
do i give this strange body back
when i hear voices, i turn quick as a heel
with a sudden cunning to be lost
crumpling up the path and stammering
emptying my pockets
emptying my hands
i bury myself like a bird in a box
my shaking shovel becoming my own guilt-ridden owner
and only when i taste the footsteps above me
do i inhale the languid sighs of dirt,
do i take roots into my hair,
do i give this strange body back
to a sleeping librarian who doesn't wake up
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Meadow Magenta
Amazing imagery as always! I'll be turning this over in my mind for a while :) Thank you for the mind-food
Lord Byron Silverhand
The sleeping Librarian who doesn’t wake up? You mean me? 👀 and no this doesn’t taste like dirt. Brush that dirt off your shoulder! The real dirt is that negative thinking. Don’t be so hard on yourself, bb.
Shadow Bliss
I really liked this poem
xX_merkury_xX
i really liked this, wow. please keep writing!