scream from diaphragm.
forget ‘top of lungs’
that’s just morning smog
to blunt the butterflies’ iridescence.
instead, up from underneath
fracturing, sending to surface
gas and poison.
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scream from diaphragm.
forget ‘top of lungs’
that’s just morning smog
to blunt the butterflies’ iridescence.
instead, up from underneath
fracturing, sending to surface
gas and poison.
Greet the dawn with the breath of life (to paraphrase Ruth Gordon in Harold and Maude). Well done!
Nice poem with a subtle message. I’ll put it on fmpoetry next week if you don’t mind. Thanks for sharing, cheers, Marc.
Thanks. Always feel free to post my work on FMPoetry. I appreciate it and I love reading all the other great folding mirror poems over there.
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Scream from diaphragm. I like it!