Sick

I was ill, and wrote a poem about it

Thick jam and water

turned into steam,parts of me

shouting across the fence,

my body is full of strangers;

Open as a butcher`s block,

full of tunnels and string.

A dead mouse under the floorboards,

that listens to ghosts.

Author's Note

(c) Leslie Philibert for the World. All rights reserved.

Reviews

[Leslie Philibert]

Revised this ! made it shorter....

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Another really pungent poem. I could smell the fear in this. I am guessing a growth as the apt metaphors describe such. Hope you are full recovered and best wishes for 2014 Leslie