Has anyone ever painted you,
soft brushstrokes of watercolors,
wet like a tongue
or a piece of freshly cut fruit?
Flavors and textures foreign to your palate dancing undisturbed by teeth,
yours or others that may be loose?
Did something inside you ever stretch
like a cat in the sun, or coil like a rattlesnake,
poised, tail tilted, ready?
Or are you one of them,
those people slogging through life,
paying premiums on time, reducing
interest, drinking lukewarm Bud Light,
pretending not to care
that a house of cards
can never
be a cathedral, not caring
because you can’t worship
a 401k?
What if the bottom line
is the top
of something too big to see?
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a subversive weirdo nerd witch who loves rocks. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction may have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
My words are mine. Suggest ai use and get eviscerated.
MA English literature, CofC
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Comments (3)
Hmm, what if I don't drink beer at all? I think the answer to the last question is to invert that pyramid and free yourself. Great questions, Harper!
Ok. Everything checks out except the warm bud light. 🤮 Interesting. You should add this as a possible challenge to that thread Vocal posted. Poem in the form of a survey.
This is very close to some of the work I read by Langston Hughes or Gwendolyn Brooks (the questioning and debating).