Today's poem is by Chessy Normile
Climb On Top of It
I feel tiny like a crab apple.
It makes me want to offer myself
to someone from the city
and surprise them by being hard and sour.When I was a girl there was this one nightmare
so loud that it'd continue to sound itself
in the room after I'd opened my eyes.I am the only cop in this bar.
Miranda knows, but no one else.Later, I'll let you pick me up like a boomerang. Literally
I will bend at the waist, you can use only one hand.
You will throw me away from you and think you get the game,
but I will straighten out mid-flight and keep going, joke's on you, asshole.It is always good to lie here
and tell the truth to a girl.I isolate myself
because I guess I have to
and I love it, but it hurts me
because I guess it has to.When I get to the top of this house
I am going to be so proud of myselfI am not even wearing the special belt
that makes this climb a game.
Free-balling, scaling, so proud,
because there is no one else here
and usually I am just cool for an audience.I understand nothing.
I mean it. I have had enough.
Somebody call me a cab.
George, fetch the parcels.
Kurt, the magazines.
We're leaving.
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Copyright © 2016 Chessy Normile All rights reserved
from jubilat
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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