Category Archives: The Self

Thin Skin

Their short-legged dog is trembling.
It winds between our legs,
through the turnstiles of our love,
but no number of pats can sate,
no manner of stroking and talking
and looking into its brown eyes.
Hey, I feel the same, I sympathize.
Inside, I’m trembling too
at this gathering of semi-strangers–
don’t want to be noticed
yet don’t wish to be ignored.

We tremble together
on the porch
on a hot summer day.

 

 


 

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not ready to be born

You will feel like a fraud
ill- suited to the game,
cover your shame
with needless tasks

and empty trophies,
until you learn
how to play again.
When our masks

slip on the sweat
of our joyful combustion,
the world gets a glimpse
of our colourless flame.

 


Buried Alive

Father a poet,
Mother a prophet,
Sister a painter,
What am I?

A puppy,
A pawn,
A people-pleaser,
my disguise from others.

I came to this planet
naked, unafraid and found
people swapped costumes
like playing cards.

A baby, A girl, A woman.
Mini, Miss, Ma’am.
Each a respectable role.
Each a code of behaviour.

But the customary dress
now gives me hives.
Do I disrobe & be deemed a liar,
or do I stay buried alive?

 


 

Word Prompt: Illusion

This is Water

solitude is water | kinship the meal

 


 

Inspiration: “Silence is a true friend who never betrays.”

“This is Water” is from a speech by David Foster Wallace:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, how’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

Source: metastatic.org