a couple of poems i wrote during poetry class on actual paper.

Whether or not the sun rises, find me:
I'll be with the gulls by the new station,
Midst the motionless earth-movers, sleeping
still and silent over broken ground.

Unspoken hang the words, like great molds
of concrete, hollow but for bones of steel
to mark where the walls will rise, if the sun rises.
And we could take a train together.  But,

If the darkness clings and the words crumble,
Would you still walk a while with me?

*   *   *

 

"A young bone once broken heals harder,
Less brittle; slower to crack or crush,"

i heard them say.
 

 

"Then as guardians, to grow them strong,
We must break the children's bones."

i ran away.