A Half Buttoned Reverie
mid thought mid turn mid afternoon
It began with a stone or a sparrow
or perhaps the hem of a sentence
unspoken snagged on my collarbone
where your name used to sit
like laughter left to steep too long
My shoelace is untied again
I let it trail
a banner for battles I no longer argue with
Somewhere behind me
a woman is scolding her child
with the kind of mercy that hurts more
than it helps
I’m passing ivy climbing up
a thing too old to blush
and think
even that holds on better than I do
The sun insists on a narrative
through slatted openings of cloud
but the story keeps skipping
An apple bruises in my palm
I meant to eat it
Or throw it
What were we saying before you
pulled your laughter back like a sleeve
Before I looked at your hand
and didn’t recognize what it meant
There are birds
but they don’t symbolize anything
They’re only flying because they have wings
I turn left
half expecting the wind
to complete my sentence
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
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By Jason Ray Morton 3 days ago in Writers
Comments (1)
Glorious work Tim! 🎉