Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
1/25/2017 the sky melted, sweating glass for three days straight- once, we marveled at the inexorable and eventual at the drop that makes the bough bow. i remember the ache of the sunlight on my crooked nape one May day . We sit in a January cafe "It is springtime," she announces except these days, it's no emotional pantomime, not a hopeless mantra "and why?" I beg a question "oh, because something's starting" she mixes milk into her honey it is too sweet for me the umbrella opens in the shop "put that away, it's a bad omen" oh, as if I care imagine me so treacly? she talks about pregnancy and politics about marriage and something in me, i realize wants to be, is disgusted by my far future maternity at the supermarket there's a jingle hey, mom, what's for dinner? "Uh, hey, I feel like Plath... marriage is oppression and all that" "Well, join the club. Oh, domesticity-" "O'Hara said : There is only one man I like to kiss," I misquote, intentionally. "*Heterosexuality! you are inexorably approaching!*" perhaps we can't wait to be thirty and bored with three kids watching them play at the Minetta wondering where the hell our time went and there they'll sit polish- to her irish, italian- to my puerto rican new jersey mutts i laugh thinking of drunk days down on 53rd and Lex we're not ready to live like it's 1953 *oh, johnny promised me and i wear his ring*
0
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
untitled (on married life)
1/25/2017 the sky melted, sweating glass for three days straight- once, we marveled at the inexorable and eventual at the drop that makes the bough bow. i remember the ache of the sunlight on my crooked nape one May day . We sit in a January cafe "It is springtime," she announces except these days, it's no emotional pantomime, not a hopeless mantra "and why?" I beg a question "oh, because something's starting" she mixes milk into her honey it is too sweet for me the umbrella opens in the shop "put that away, it's a bad omen" oh, as if I care imagine me so treacly? she talks about pregnancy and politics about marriage and something in me, i realize wants to be, is disgusted by my far future maternity at the supermarket there's a jingle hey, mom, what's for dinner? "Uh, hey, I feel like Plath... marriage is oppression and all that" "Well, join the club. Oh, domesticity-" "O'Hara said : There is only one man I like to kiss," I misquote, intentionally. "*Heterosexuality! you are inexorably approaching!*" perhaps we can't wait to be thirty and bored with three kids watching them play at the Minetta wondering where the hell our time went and there they'll sit polish- to her irish, italian- to my puerto rican new jersey mutts i laugh thinking of drunk days down on 53rd and Lex we're not ready to live like it's 1953 *oh, johnny promised me and i wear his ring*
Written by
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem