Photo by Roman Trifonov on Unsplash
Page corner buckles
under my turning finger;
paper creases once.
About the Creator
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The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Love this poem…
Everything you write is a page turner. Loved this!
Love the title which hooked me in and your great haiku delivered..