Personal space
3 feet across,
2 feet in front
Draw a circle.
Energy transfers
careening into my body
vomit
pulses ingested
Breathe
Chatter of children
Boots crushing fallen leaves
Outside
Giggles fill the air
Light streams
1/3 open blinds
Mid afternoon
I’m lying in bed
Speed bump
Slow down
Eyelids fold
Fresh
Firefly wings hide tail
inertia
Force, will combust
into
grains of burnt
Sand
pinched into glitched
musical notes
Split in 3's
staccato
whiplash
Static
Silence
door slam.
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
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More stories from Michele Nampalli and writers in Poets and other communities.
Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin4 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
3 feet of space yet the whole world crashes in. Eyes shut. Silence.