wire sand
Free Verse Poem
to bend a wire is to work a certain muscle rarely seen,
stretching your skin,
engraving metal dust in the tips of your fingers,
pliers not quite strong enough to shape it how you want.
beach days, frequently, nearly too much to keep up,
but, your wire cutters work on anything.
broken things that can’t break anymore,
now, they can only fix,
only improves if it can’t get worse,
twist it into the shape of the pit of a peach,
an eye,
but never a form the crystal fits.
maybe you should buy a rock with sharp, jagged edges,
so it latches on
and stays together when you lose it in the swimming pond,
notice, but it’s too far gone, and your suit is worn down,
you could retrieve it anyway, but your chest is exposed,
you refuse to enter the water naked
for fear of the rumored leeches,
snakes, and monster seaweed,
sickness, bacteria, porta-potty-blue streaks
an infection that threatens the deeper you sink,
but you
don’t have a thing for them, you just want your pendant, back
to the car, dripping wet, sitting down in a towel,
staining everything,
rich with that pondwater smell, blue, dirty, lacking jewelry,
bare with pond-hair, pond-feet, sand in every crevice,
never want to see the beach again, although you have to
if you want to be accepted,
if you want to have your necklace back,
no one else cares how deep
but you, don’t slam the door yet, get back on that raft!
this crowd can’t complain about your lack of swimsuit,
don’t you
want that precious stone back?
Chris Taylor is a young writer who creates poetry as a coping mechanism, sharing it as a way to connect with others. In their spare time, they enjoy spending time around dogs, family, and listening to electronic and alternative music.
