What I am

is not the end

By R.C. TaylorPublished 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read

I’m white flag floundering around,

a fish with a hook in my mouth

a liar in a life imitates art museum

words dandelion roaring in concrete

reaching up to a beer bottle sun

Do you miss the silence when it’s gone?

we’re getting warmer, an open scene

hauled to the desert for water

spitting sour wine out instead

reel me back onto shore please

all is soft inside

I’m done already

this is all I am

all I am

is not the end

I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.

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