Thursday, January 24, 2013

Poetry stalks me by Alice Keys MD

Poetry stalks me
in the midst of my afternoon
while I walk barefoot under a blue shell sky.
Birth pains of poetry are
higher up
than the guttural quakes that shoved
new miracles from the mouth of my womb.
Poetry harpoons me
when I lean down to pick
sharp grit from my heel.
It strikes
to the right of my breastbone,
stabs deep
to set the hook then
pulls me
into unbearably thin air.
I press
my hand to the wound
and gasp
while I wait for the light to change
at the corner.

by Alice Keys MD

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