Empty

and overflowing

By Harper Lewis Published 3 months ago • 1 min read

Grief lives in empty swingsets,

closed books, and stray socks.

It's in memories,

that room I can't open the door to

because it's so full of loss

it knocks me down,

takes my breath,

reduces me to tears,

spiked blood pressure,

and rage at the cruel perpetrator

of real grief for a fake death.

I hope she chokes on her pride,

and when it's time,

I'll greet her at the gates

of hell, my new home.

Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing!

Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.

Intertextuality is my passion.

Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.

My words are mine, not a robot’s.

MA English literature, CofC

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