Tag Archives: whimsy

What?

My teeth clack loudly for attention

My tongue clicks to be heard. 

I yawn, and each ear pops its knuckles

Ready for a brawl. 

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Happy Nothing

Happy Nothing, my love!
Happy Day of Extra.
I hope your No-Holiday 
is kind to you. 

I just wanted to say
Hello, 
In a special way as we celebrate
Ordinary Day. 

(Normally I’d have a gift for you, because you deserve it, but seeing as it’s always Nothing-Special season here
It wouldn’t do to shower you with gifts. Others would wonder
Just what’s going on. I don’t think they see how splendid No-Special-Celebration-Day
 [also known as every day] 
is with you

Because you’re always with me, so how could they?)

Creep

It is nigh on impossible

To creep about at night, desperately trying not to wake your parents, when you are wearing four dog tags 

Chained about your neck like a claim to life

And three of them are entirely unnecessary, and you are wishing fervently that you had not wistfully clasped them on earlier that day;

But it is far too late and too quiet now to remove them, and so you walk like a swaying tree

Leaned back, tilted crazily

Trying to keep the jangly bits of metal pinned to your chest,

Silenced by their imprisonment against cotton t-shirt,

Praying

Hoping

Wishing — ever so fervently that the tiny beast that guards your parents’ room will not launch into a fit of yowling at the sound of your 

creaking 

(jangling?) 

about in the hall. 

(Go to sleep now, you tell yourself! No more poetry — the night is sick of you!)