Mood: Funky
Drinking: Water
Earthquake Weather
And in that moment I knew
what my choice would be.
What, indeed, it already was,
as if all my life I had been
waiting for someone
just to ask the right question.
A question of love, yes,
and a question of lust, too,
but when you lay back
the skin of the thing
and find fire pulsing
in its core, then
you need only review
the essence of flame
to reach your answer.
If you want to burn
without getting burned
you must either
carry ice in your veins
or flame out before morning.
I have always been afraid of fire.
When playing with matches,
I am careful to singe only
fingertips.
Caution serves one well
in earthquake weather.
Now I can’t sleep
until you come home.
Last night I lay in bed
and wished the neighbor
would turn out his light.
And in that moment I knew
what my choice would be.
Without you here to cool me
I begin a slow burn.
When morning comes,
you will find only ashes
between the sheets.
There is no such thing
as one true love
so pick your number
wisely.
I know you’ll be awhile figuring that one out. I’m still working on it, myself. So here’s some fun new things to distract you.
My favorite Wicker Kid has been writing again. I highly suggest you read his new posts over at The Wicker Chronicles.
A lovely lady from the UK named Melissa contacted me over the weekend to ask if she could add some cinepoetry to her website. And that’s how Bored Now and Slow Roast came to be a part of Beat the Dust TV. Check it out.
-Lo, who thinks the last stanza, though possibly misplaced, is the key.
LaDonnaWitmer 