poetry community – Page 20 – Thistle Thoughts

Prose-Poem: The Placing

The green of the air.
The scent of choking desert.

I want to call you up
and say that every
movie I watch lately
stars you.

Now my mouth doesn’t know what
my shadow is saying.

while deciphering spatter, I remember
your squinting, your pondering,
& the magnetics of twiddling fingers

There is no
resolution
or solution
when a ghost
hops time zones

the cerebral rattling
has ceased,
broken through
the attic static

Watch how I attempt

to balance inflated eggs

upon my last spoon.

When I was in the state of erosion —

— things were ok

The room holds its breath
as slate blue mother rises
to this glorious occasion

dawn rises
singing her canticles,
touches the killing fields