Litkicks Message Board Archive

Second draft

Posted to Action Poetry


What's singing inside me? I do not know.
No more floating, no more suspense, please.
Something says, "Not so, not so, not so,"
You've left me hanging on your stage whispers,

Your promises of breaking and entering,
That you would burst into this room and find me
Hiding, alone in my narrow shame,
Deadbolted and hole blocked by a skeleton key

Perhaps I should play the Spartan,
Mastering myself, closed mouth, no syllables,
But I am no match for all my fears,
Writhing and breeding in sawdust and cables.