Manic

She, we,
pretend
we had
a Jesus hallucination
and put pepper and plantains
on my arm
for the universe to taste,

but a piece dribbled
from my skin.

Our own crosses,
Our cataclysms.

Parents hold us
like hymns
and whisper

Our own corssses
Cataclysms

Parents hold us
like hymns in winter

The past might with
One madness
cover up
other poems


April 10, 2014
Day 10 of NaPoWriMo

*Note about today’s work. This poem was done for an assignment for my creative writing class. We had to bury some of creative works for a week, dig them up and then create a poem out of what was left. Enjoy!

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