Drop that Stone
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Did they draw cages in the sand and say “she cannot touch you inside these lines.”
Did you laugh when I crashed through the bars like a tidal wave? I am not easy to love, I promise. But honey, if you wanted easy you'll find her in your wallet.
And the notes they stuck like so much dust—
dandelion dust, fairy wishing dust—
in my hair and caught on the skin
behind my ears.
They tugged and teased my trumpet shell,
my dusty, disused, cartilage bell,
and snaked their way into my brain
and tap danced on my memory cells.