Generation Broken Mirror

how do we cope with       seven years of bad luck,
sweating summer away, treating youth
like bittersweet apricot, unripe/or rotting,
when winter brings
our future’s eroded footprints
as clearly as if they were stamped      in fresh fallen snow?
    we are not ourselves: ruining things we love
    by becoming them.
making competitions of unblooming.     I love me,
    I love me not. love me,
love the parallel of armor & amour.
petals pirouetting/
metallic lace lining pistil/, pistol.
there is pollen under my/your eyes
& i/you are (am) allergic.



19 years old

More by Icestorm

  • Prayer of Inheritance

    dear God, this is a hymn; I sing it with my throat still fresh. dear God, this is a prayer; I recite it
    with my head bowed and the arrow nocked. irony coalesces in the strangest
  • Erasure

    i. dremel uvula
    we are girls. to hope is to expect. to revert back
    to sticky hands, to beg between tantrum sobs
    for lullabies. we are girls, we polish
    our sentiments (with sandpaper tongues)
    down to shining minimums
  • Point Off View

    we feel we are broken: ‘you, kissing temples.
        i, stuck in church.’
        but broken implies a previous wholeness,
    so we settle for fragmented,    so we are all a little bit each other.