One pin small pinch, squeeze in brain wriggle an inch. Poke steel cylinder overflowing mind tips eccentric drips… Jigsaw puzzle memories become words spilled across glass — Quick! put me to · geth · er So I can l a s t
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I really like the vivid imagery in this one as well as the physical appearance of the poem itself–it has a dagger-like quality, or perhaps that of an unopened flower bud. Also, those last six lines are so true–words just scream to be released sometimes and beg to be made corporeal. Your poetry rocks, Kirsten! 🙂
Thank you, Mike! That’s a good catch too with the physical appearance. 🙂
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