The air balmy
another nondescript Monday in La La Tennessee
flicking through vinyl at a dusty
record house
mid flip-
my fingertips walk across a CD
wait, posed in static
***
spring insects woke across my skin
***
stirring the air
with friction
I ran my hands down my arms
breasts
hips
tamping down this slow
eruption
***
Goodbye. before
my eyes run into the interior-
semi-conducting
my lips curl
***
you're quicksilver
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.