Poetry can be boring.

But every once in a while

A poem cuts right through the fog

Grips your collar

Forces you to pay attention.

A good poem

Runs through you like a trickle of ice water.

A good poem

Is fleet and cannot be caught.

A good poem

Creeps quiet like ivy

Until it coats the inside of your mind

And you are besotted.

A good poem

Leaves a mark where it touched you

Red like a new bruise

Red like a lipstick kiss

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s