Hanging Myself

Let me tell you about it;
the space I’m currently in
before the words peel up
and fly away to a safe tree.
Imagine a broken glass wheel,
or a lift and press, without
the lift. What I’m referring
to is this old plank on Grave
Creek Bridge that keeps holding
on, even with its plank screws
pushed out. A swimmer’s hung up.
Down below. If only I could sit up,
I’d probably just curl this page.

for Quickly [Of particular note: I used some
vocabulary of physical exercises I know
how to do i.e. swimmer’s press, tree &
bridge… & out sprang this morbid thing]

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7 thoughts on “Hanging Myself

  1. “A horrible poem”? What?? This is brilliant. I can’t even lay a finger on it, but I know it reflects exactly what’s happening in my messy brain today. This one is worth a revisit.
    I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long–you knew i’d come back 🙂

    1. Oh Michelle, it’s always good to hear from you. Whenever you come around, the friend card is always in play. I’m glad your brain was feeling what mine was laying down. I think I cleared some junk out when I walked our new dog.:) Thanks for believing that showcasing one’s imperfections could be brilliant.

      1. Amazing what a walk with a dog can do. I loved this!
        As for showcasing imperfections…I should be the freaking poster child. You’re talking to the chick who went to the airport this morning without an ID or credit cards…Where’s the wine and pizza???

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