sometimes i wish i knew less.
i learnt how to read the stars
and look through the soul
before i could speak.
now the valve is shut
and filled with grime.
i part my lips--
it squeaks open--
the sludge falls out.
no one waits for the water.
sometimes i wish i felt less.
the cavern in my soul is what it's left.
i calm and soothe and speak with wisdom
before the teeth have grown
to those who should have it.
i pluck out my childish eyes--
i cannot have them.
i must be bigger--better--
now all i can do is raise my pitch,
put on an act,
that is all i have left--
only the cornea
tumbling on the floor like a slipped plate
transparent and useless.
i can cry as much as i wish
fill the cavern with water
it drains away.
the ache remains.
YOU ARE READING
lightning
Poetry"flashes of lightning they light up the hills visible only for a moment briefly beautiful before being engulfed once again by the storm" _ poetry book
