Commodity

May 29, 2014

When I was younger I thought could become anything.

I could dance and sing; joy I could bring

to all that would listen.

It turns out the number of open ears was quite grim.

But it was okay, for who was to say

I couldn’t be an astronaut or a carpenter for a day?

Problem was, that would give me too many odd edges and

I wouldn’t piece together like the puzzles

or the shapes they had known and planned

Four sides meant it was a rectangle

and when the sides were even they formed a square

and that with one less side was a triangle

but there was one question I dared

“What about a squarangle?”

Silly kid

But surely they exist and I showed them with my blocks

The explanation, as I was told, was polygons, as it was for anything else inexplicable.

Hastily shoved aside in a awkward bunch

I suddenly had a hunch.

I tested it out.

I lived from my soul

Sprinted after my passions until exhaustion took its toll

I thought with my heart

Walking on water and believing maybe even the Red Sea would part

And I explored

Oh I traveled the abscesses of my thoughts and ran along the paths of my dreams

Still exploring

I could become anything

and to stop was surrender to the assembly line

“What about a squarangle?”

I’ll leave that for you to define.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.