Lindsey Lewis Smithson

July 19th, 2015 by admin

Untitled When I was a kid I would go into my Dad’s garage and tear apart anything I could grab I never wanted to know how it worked to destroy to see the insides bare on the table to name each piece see it’s function The Ninja Turtles The phone’s bell The wheel in the VCR The baby cries on the changing table my peach flesh fuzz creation the sperm and egg cocktail spun inside and worked out through my vagina What are you really beautiful creature Stardust and sex blue eyed product Unsolvable puzzle   Columbia, Maryland Green arms pulled down blue sky blankets, drowned out sunshine to help me sleep Be calm here the gray sky buildings whisper you are nothing, nothing in measure to what lived follow this civil war bike path to the mall where another disaffected teen killed, the Michael Kors store is having a sale you are not one of us the cul-de-sac knows it wash away in the river this path isn’t for you. don’t fight sleep anymore   Josh On Mountain St. a white ambulance holds his empty body. The onlookers knew him by sight. I thought I knew him better. Wind pulls my hair as the ambulance passes. The gravel road calls out at each corner. Left. Right. Right. Away   The Day After Billy Died Remember the earthen stairs wrapping around the redwoods— misnamed the Trees of Mystery? You’d never carved our names into any other trees with a kitchen knife. That day no sounds, save our own, had existed. Other imprints were glossed over by rain.   Lindsey Lewis Smithson is the editor of Straight Forward Poetry. Sometimes she writes some stuff and sometimes some people like it. @lindseysmithson; @straight_poetry

Tags: Lindsey Lewis Smithson, Poetry,

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