Sunday, January 2, 2011

britt's poem draft 1:

When I met you

I didnt know what it's like
to hold a dead bird
in my mouth without screaming.
or how to soften a muscle
that had been fossiled
by years of polluted current.
or give away my pride;
a first born, pink and still attached

I didn't know how to heal a canyon
one handful of mud at a time
or to love someone completely,
with space between each tooth.

to have a heart
that no longer takes shallow breaths
or has hands who have carried
homes from one side of the continent to another
who is unafraid of whats inside of it.
with enough room to fit most things.

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