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Abby M Feb 9
Satellites grow like barnacles out of rooftops
Bringing to us sights and sounds that sprout like anemones in our minds
Their blinking lights and metal forms are idols to their purpose
The rain did not come from the sky, it welled up from the rooftops and poured down on our heads
They told us, “get your hammers, get your nails, you’re gonna need a boat”
I wonder why I can’t just lay my head back and float

Ever since the flood started, Grandma’s been staring out the window
She says “that rain’s just not the way it used to be”
I don’t look up, too busy learning how to swim
She smiles and knits another coat, she says the rain is awfully cold

I haven’t slept a bit since all this water has appeared
My car was carried off and now I’m living on the streets
But even streets can only stay dry so long
I went into a seven eleven and saw the puddles in the aisles
I stole some chips and got out quick
I knew the rain was coming soon

A whale is singing near my head
It’s leaned against the glass
I know he’s trapped for now, but soon the waves will let him out
My teacher calls me once again
But water’s sloshing in my head
She yells “we have to leave!”
But I’m too busy smiling at the whale
He speeds away
And sings a song
The water pins me down but he is gone

I stand atop a mountain climbed with only my bare hands
The water laps at my bare feet
The highest beach in the world
And I put my towel down first
Everyone else is swimming
I sit and see the sun go down behind the ocean for the last time
What a beautiful end to the day
Abby M Jan 31
I often wander past her gallows
And feel a sympathetic twinge
At glints of sun on growing rifts
I long to hear her sing

My fingers itch to hold the mallet
Molded to her brazen form
A tongue, once ripped from quiet lips
It rests, with ears, unworn

If treasured glance is counted higher
Than the purest ringing note
Then may she hang still, gagged in silence
“To Liberty!”, I quote
  Oct 2019 Abby M
Allison French
Haven't You heard?

The great wave represents
so
much
more

Mona Lisa's smile is not happy
Let me tell you why

You just don't understand
what it means

Maybe if you were more in tune
With yourself
And your soul
You would know what they were saying
What they were expressing
With each color
Each stroke

Haven't you heard
The answer is definite
I know for sure
What they represent
What they mean
Don't you feel the same way?
Abby M Oct 2019
If the earth had a temple
Surely it would be the ocean
With its stained-glass fish
And its stately silver sands
Its keening choir of whales
And rocking sermon of waves

The world above is not
A foreign paradise
With its broken-glass windows
And its dingy gas-stained streets
Its keening choir of mothers
And angry sermons of men

If the earth had a temple
Our world would be its end.
Abby M Sep 2019
A spiral of light, like music to my eyes
I spun out into the golden grass
The stars shining brightly above me
Only seconds ago the vortex that seemed to knock me down
I heard a laugh, but no one was there
Maybe it was the stars
The moon was too kind to laugh
My silver feet began to work again
Daring the stars to tip me twice
The dampened earth beneath my twirling soles
A cushion when the dare was done
I laid there then, but
Only long enough to find Pegasus
Until I heard the muffled steps and swishing grass
As others wandered from the trees
Their candles sad mirrors
Of the vortex in the sky
One by one they challenged the stars
That tucked them all in to a bed of laughter and golden grass
I watched as they disappeared beneath the waving fronds
Until I could feel the hands of the stars readying the finale
Pulling me into a spiral of sweat and lazy zephyrs
They too knew that this was the last dance
But still I whispered up to their shining choir
Daring them to stop time.
Their hands were on their pocket watches
Pulling out the gears
A wish so close to granting you could hear the crickets pause
Yet soon they stirred
The spiral pushed, but laughter pushed it back
No longer harmonizing to their melodic lights
I fell again
This time over a root
My silver feet tarnished to grey
And lost their shine walking back through the woods
Abby M Jun 2019
Her red lips like the roses of a cracking stained glass window
When she leaned in to whisper her secret
The words falling from them like demons through a gate
Into a crumbling church

Into my ear

I had sat in those pews
With zealous eyes and thoughts upon those lip-red roses
But one by one her demons came like whispers
And cracked the red stained window like a breaking heart
Abby M Mar 2019
I am a garden just waiting to let spring in
I stand frozen now with wind blown tufts in the air
Nothing but a blankness, as suits the harsher months
I wait for the signal to unclasp my sprigs
To make known my blooming blush
To let down my head of greenery
And fill the empty space where I have slumbered
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