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Mia
Poems
9h
Fingers Crossed
Hold—then take,
a stove will broil,
begging for a break.
Mask—and fake,
a dime in a fountain—
more time for you to waste.
Gift—wrapped, taped,
presently presentable,
wrecked in wake.
Task—but pace.
Asking for a pardon:
isolate.
Disconnect—show face.
If bearing teeth feels instinctual,
wishing won’t help—
it’s still not safe.
I used to have time for it.
Written by
Mia
F
(F)
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