The Wilting of Conversation
I wish I had excuses,
White petals decay from stranger’s eyes.
As I assume to water blossoms
With spit speech.
I do rehearse conversation
With the dirt.
By the time it understands
I am knee deep in mud.
It’s enough practice
To keep my vowels growing.
While I wake up each morning,
Look out my window
And recreate conversation
For footsteps in the snow.
That nauseating feeling
When I realize
I am narrating my own footsteps.
I know where they’ve been.
The truth is boring.
I practice in the mirror.
Decorate my reflection
With a bit of
Choice, spit, and relevance.
Flutter my eyelids
Till a lash breaks off.
Floats gently into my open palm.
I am shaking too much
To keep it in balance.
The wish falls with my spit.
I keep it there
And wait for mold to grow.
Everyone needs a best friend
That they can converse with.
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Comments about this poem (The Wilting of Conversation by A.j. Binash )
- Out There, Fatima Nusairat
- Immortal world, gajanan mishra
- Soulful smile, ramesh rai
- Perfection, Donnie Wolff
- Defiled, gajanan mishra
- Be It Trivial And Mundane, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Every creature, gajanan mishra
- How Juice From Fruit Is Produced, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Once Indifference Is Shown, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- empty without you, Liss March
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