FEBRUARY POEM TO GOD

 February hurries away 

like a house wife who walks fast  

to home to make 

her husband's favorite dinner .

I am vomiting out all the love poems, 

my heart swell in the chest

 crashing the breath.

My hair black as the tadpoles ,

 dripping down the shoulders

My fear, in its blue dress 

running deep in my veins.

Heavy signs and red face lined with tears,

Whispers of ghosts staying in the head.

I write his name in cursive letters, 

like a fly buzzing around 

rotten pineapple memories.

Like the melting butter in a pan.

Mother tells me not to go out without her.

Are you afraid I will return in a red casket? 

Will that break your heart? 

I have stabbed myself so many times 

in front of you, but that's my magic_

I don't let you see my scars

 telling am not a baby 

while collecting metaphors 

with hands pale as white peonies. 

If there is a God, he is having a good laugh at me. 

Give me a break.

This is my death. 

This is my resurrection.

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