Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 12
I woke with too much purpose this morning.
I swear it was me
who split the dark sky open
like pointed steel through wood.

The sharp hack of existence hit
when I visualized my wallet
on the kitchen counter,
leaning against that vase
with the snake on it.

Second in line
at the grocery store,
cart overflowing.
Written by
Claire  F/Maine
(F/Maine)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems