M. Hank

It’s:

twisted

crinkled like

the leaves

they’re frail now,

on the edge

of not there.

scrolling photos

feverishly 

YWP is the reason I

Keep refusing to take off the nail polish

Chipped and speckled like stars,

Smiling when I see the flecks of gold

Within the flecks of turquoise

There are days when I fall asleep wondering about the line between stupid and brave.

Brave

Is a hero rushing into battle

Ready to fight

For their passion

Stupid

Is a hero rushing into battle

Watch the fire through wavy glass 

See the shadows 

Bury the past 

Gaze upon distorted flames 

Glowing embers 

Burning names  

Shadows lengthening 

Air sharpening to a crisp 

Summer slipping day by day 

Something new and familiar in its place. 

Bags stuffed with papers 

Early morning bus rides 

They say 

America was raised 

By our founding fathers 

And I'm sure it was 

But what about it's mothers