I am what I am and what am I?

emilydonoher Poems

Perhaps the best of me is behind beyond that point of irreversibility a beacon of inevitability and it serves as such I am no longer shiny or shocking or new a brown paper bag crumpled and creased milk that sours and curdles a homesick orphan a lamb on its back and I will always be a child I will always be a child I will always be a child Love contorts me I curve and twist and grow larger and wider I am a flesh ball a blush balloon punctured by a mere prick I am sensitive tuned too tight like my Grandmother’s piano but it was the first I ever played so no other sounds right and I tell my first love the same thing I am entropy the blaze of a sun a deity of delusion a fickle fig (pick, peel, devour) I am a tear in your jeans a loose thread a love-sick sack a daughter (and some days, a mother) I am tin teeth a blade in your belly a hive in your head a feeble fawn (a black bull) I am an amalgamation of deficiency and divinity coarse and common as coal I am the sun the nether the shade under the rock I am nothing nothing at all