"icefield" poems
you're like the moon:
stay 238,900 miles away from me.
you're like the sun:
if you get any closer, you'll set me on fire
you're like pluto,
who i wish orbited the sun more frequently than you.
(at least it has a heart, even if it's an icefield.)
you're like jupiter,
surrounded by moons vying for your eyes,
smaller than me and not 365,000,000 miles away.
you're like the earth:
i don't want to be around you any longer than i have to.
you're like the earth:
someday i'll get away from you.
you're like the earth:
bad habits might be destroying you,
but there are beautiful details that keep me looking at you.
you're like gravity:
i don't really understand you,
but i'm stuck with you.
you're like a black hole,
and i'm a stupid planet stuck in the galaxy that surrounds you.
you're like a bad space metaphor,
in that we always find ourselves back here.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
The snow:
Pounding the earth, trees
the man.
Centuries of hunger repeat the
raven's walk on icefield.
The drum beats again.
The cold war tapping
at your doors. Missiles made
ready to fly.
The rhyme comes back to
weave the funeral song.
Blood curdles, as you step up
the agony.
The stings, the venoms,
the blue veins. The murderers
were ready to―
receive the gifts.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC