run down the chin
of a very particular
little girl.
they are sticky and
tart and
she wipes them away, disgusted
by the unpleasant byproduct,
indignant
that there should be
imperfection
in this.
her little sister smiles,
looking into the sun
as she licks the
bitter sweet
from her fingertips.
**
inspiration:
Your daddy the war machine; your mama the long and suffering, prisoner of what she cannot see. They told you life is hard, it's misery from the start, it's dull, and slow, and painful. But I tell you life is sweet, in spite of the misery. There's so much more. Be grateful.
-Natalie Merchant, "Life is Sweet"
**
I have decided I do not like writing a poem a day; it is frustrating, and troublesome, and saps some of my creative juices. So after April I may try twice-a-week poems. This sounds much more appealing, and will still increase my output substantially.
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