Fire

movement now brings sounds
reminiscent of a fire,
feeding on my bones
instead of wood. in
the morning, dragging
myself out of bed (pop);
in the afternoon,
stretching my back
(snap snap snap);
in the evening, collapsing
into bed (crack).
no warmth, only a dull ache
and audible reminder
of deterioration,
like erosion
and rust.





Seriously, you guys. It's getting ridiculous. Knees, hips, back, shoulders, elbows. Slowly falling apart here.

Submerged

the shush of a calm ocean,
waves whispering the places they have been.
ropes creak, boards squeak,
the constant sway of everything-
all of it, subliminally,
at the center of one's being.
this is the life of a pirate or sailor- floating
yet submerged in the mind of the sea,
as mother and lover she will always be.




Add pirates & such onto the list of things I should write about, because Nutmeg has asked for it and she's spoiling me with story snippets.

PS, in case you didn't know- the internet here has a block that allows me to get to my dashboard & make posts, but nothing beyond that. So I can't view comments or reply to them or look at anyone else's blog, either. FYI.