Free verse № 153121
In the maybe
Going from a warm wet womb
to sandpaper days is nobodys fault.
Even 1200 grit can take too much
off the top,
and make friday fall short.
Or hump-day go
Plummeting into tomorrow.
No one knows what causes
a missed phone call,
or cabinet of burned out bulbs;
lessons without teachers.
And christmas is always on the other
side of a freshly mopped floor.
I don't have much to offer beside
I'm coming I'm coming
in a minute. All I have to give
is a used ladder, a new hammer
a handfull of galvanized nails.
I can't promise if you go once more
onto the roof the job will get done.
All I can say is, It looks like rain.
4 comments
Anyway, speaking of teachers â I just watched Taylor Mali perform âwhat teachers makeâ. I think your logbook poem is better, but this one is worse. So much for comparisons.
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