Tag Archives: chalk

The Wrong Kind of Habitual


Theres nothing much telling
about patterns of
delirious obsession
but you know it hits
when the nearest blank slate
strikes a chord with the observer
like chalk
sticking to the hand
clinging on for dear life
and when gasping for air
at the slightest muffle,
or a burst in the tile,
shattering slate
erasing and regressing
making an impression of the empty room
and with hands of ghosts, whispering
“you’ll never get there, just watch”
he was a mirror
on a mirror
standing against an impossible fortress
it was an unimpressive day
for the unimpressive life
and his little hands shook
and why was he so
if I wasn’t
that much smaller
if the dusty air
craves company
on the everywhere (because)
most people have reserves about life,
but I was too self-centered to care
and the clouds of talc
and Burning wood
meld on mealymouthed utterances (Lord!)
swept me under the rug.
I was so tightly bound (my feet)
never quite touching the ground
feeling my way through the fear
holding a box
of chalk.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry