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Sometimes it just strikes you in the gut,
A flash of a face smiling
Then dashed, red, fear –
An intrusive thought, a grief paralysis
At breakfast, in line at the store, waiting for that phone call
When he took just a little too long coming home,
When you send her on the bus,
When they kneel down for one moment of prayer.  

Maybe you never see it you just feel it
Maybe one hundred and fifty times a year,
Maybe twenty-six times a day,
diffuse, like an throb radiating outwards,
like a ghost,
like a seven-year heartache.

Maybe you stopped feeling it, you just see it
In black and white
In colors that you know matter, but you
Choke on your own descriptions (what a privilege!),
And the world chokes on the words that would
Shake you up and wake you.  
When you were given the right to bear something
it wasn't to bear witness to a waking nightmare.
But if you’re sleeping with earplugs
You’re never going to open your eyes.
I wrote this as part of Escapril.
B Morgan Talbot Nov 2019
I've gotten so used to blowing past
red flags like
green lights,
I've forgotten what to do
when it's the right way around.
B Morgan Talbot Nov 2019
Grasp and
Grasp and
Grasp desperate to interlace hands,
Fingers falling through like sand.
A gust, and gone.
So frail you were at the end,
And yet so free.
Prompted by the Inktober 2019 sketch challenge (Day 8: Frail)
B Morgan Talbot Nov 2019
Oh how unjust and uncalled!
She wipes the muck from her mask.
Words fly fast from a gunnysack.  
The challenge is not to sling back!
Prompted from the Inktober 2019 challenge (day 19:Sling)
B Morgan Talbot Nov 2019
If I didn’t know any better,
I would say the light of the world
Pours out of the wide whites of your eyes,
And thunder is your belly-laugh bellow.
You are category five chaos
Giving me windfalls in my day.
If I didn’t know any better,
You just blow right on through
Just for you,
But it’s the seizure of my wrist into
Oh, this – ah here – oh that!
Door hinges revolt at the speed of this revolution,
The sidewalks remember our favorite tread.  
You are a gale and a lee,
You force me to be me.
Prompted from the Inktober 2019 sketch challenge
B Morgan Talbot Sep 2019
Pour another
Gin and T!
Soak in the din.
Sins sung phase into crescendo,
laughs leave our chests and wallets open.
It's just alcohol for dinner, tonight.
What? No lime!

God, I thought I was grown up.
B Morgan Talbot Sep 2019
Sister, eyes so blue,
Full to the brim with crying.
Sister, your mind’s true
To a heart always vying
To render it from lying.
Trying out a tanka
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