NATURE Poem: Whiskey Band-Aid, by Spencer FitzGerald Peter MacDonald

Go fly fishing.
Immovable – vulnerable
Locked in form.
Near the river bed, whilst heavy head rests
fear engulfs you – digest.
Wild animals lurk – Your eyes dash
Be amazed that you made it through the night without a scratch.
No broken knee caps
No heart attacks
Lift a latch. Open a door.
Check the floor, under the rug, for the booby trap
Under the stairs, behind the washer, deep in the junk drawer,
top shelf of the fridge – way back.
Hung on the rack, to the left of the closet, in the garage, search the whole flat.
Don’t exhaust the mirror looking back.
For you won’t find more than what you already see in yourself right now.
Time has a funny way of doing that.
Right now, the seasons are changing.
Right now, you grow with the buds
Right now, the ice sweats and melts into the glass
The meaning is only meaningful to few: perhaps to you?

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest