Sometimes the world is too small,
then it expands into something
too big,
where bartenders “hook me up”
by ruining my cocktail
with too much booze.
It shrinks again,
no longer having enough space
for the semis on eighty-five.
Then I’m back in the rock shop,
fragments of the earth in my hand,
allegedly grounded.
I’d rather be aired or watered (no,
not fired), something light
that lets me breathe,
slakes my thirst, bearing me
up on the wings of a hawk,
red-tailed, feathered,
riding thermals, swooping rivers,
pine trees like tall grass
in the sky, far away from
the ground, an escape,
a rejection
of gravity.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a subversive weirdo nerd witch who loves rocks. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction may have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
My words are mine. Suggest ai use and get eviscerated.
MA English literature, CofC
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Comments (4)
I thought I had read this, and I am often in this place, think there is not enough, and then I'm overwhelmed because there is too much
I love that you ended this story with the word "gravity," as if the word itself is bound to the earth of the poem, even though it is rejected.
I really like this poem; it kind of feels... Breathy... If that makes sense? The rhthm is fast but the words seem to lag behind so it creates that sense of being out of sync as if we're feeling the confusion that you're describing. Really well done!
I love that you put your own photo from your rock shop purchase. This had lots "nuggets of wisdom", lots of "gems!" 💜