December Poetry

By Pema

 

Daily Cataclysm

my butterflies tried to fly away today

which was a shame

for struggling only made

the pins tug harder

 

It’s the Little Things

When little girls and little boys come up to my flower booth

and I offer them a single, manageable stem,

in an effort to make them smile,

and they don’t know if they can take it or not

they’re afraid to accept this unknown girl’s gift

because they’ve been taught by mommies and daddies

that you can’t accept presents from a stranger

and I know that makes sense

that candy and white vans make mother’s heart

beat just that much quicker

but if we’ve been told not to take,

who’s going to bother giving

 

I Like Silhouettes

Like in the winter, when the sun sets and all you can see

are black tree knuckle bones

cut out of a blue paper sky

I like it when you can lie on your back

and look up to the spider’s web of twigs

tangled embraces of reaching branch.

I like to think that the same thing

happens underground with the roots,

clammy fingers brushing for

trees that will never fully meet

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