Plum Pit Speechless

Tue, 01/09/2018 - 18:45 -- gisris

ah, look at you.

you’re a plum pit to me,

a cratered seed of stability

amidst rotting flesh,

the nectar of bee stings

rolling off you

like water.

 

a fascinating crochet

of taj mahal-like masteries,

an inquiry

I’m dying to answer.

 

I own innumerable textbooks,

but they teach me nothing about you.

you’re a bachata of blush,

a shiver in the dog days of summer.

 

I want nothing but your words,

your kindest utterance…

your skull shaped like a birdbath,

cupped to hold secrets.

 

the disjointed Me,

peering through your windows,

aching to scratch your soul,

to suck the venom 

out of your snakebite.

 

your identity is in a wormhole somewhere,

locked in the paradoxes

of outer space.

which planet may I

retrieve it on?

 

whisperings of your desires,

I can only hear shreds of 

your heart,

mere beats in the scheme of

a rock-concert-slashout.

 

grimly hunched gravity

of the spine,

come to me

and tell me everything.

 

for once in documented

postmodernist history,

you’ve rendered a poet

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 13.0px Georgia; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center; font: 13.0px Georgia; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; min-height: 15.0px}
span.s1 {font-kerning: none}

completely speechless.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741