United States


I Am

April 25, 2017


I look like a red maraca
   shaking and moving, making a rhythm
I am the soft sound of a
   meep, or a yelp, or the hitch in someone's breath
       ripping the silence where a pin drop sounds too loud
I remember the fear of the black box
   I remember becoming it.
   I remember being it.
I remember quivering hands
   And slippery cheeks
   And lungs gulping for air
                    but I let go.

I am a beanbag
    slowly losing its form
I am comfort
I am the smoky, polluted, heavy air
    Covering the sunset that belongs to 3.073 million
I am the ray of warmth that never fails to pop out
I am red
and everything in between.
I am all of it at once.


See History
  • April 25, 2017 - 6:55pm (Now Viewing)

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