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I hear ringing, ringing,
a thousand crickets singing. Nonstop the cabaret, every second of every day. My Quiet forever lost among the resounding chorus. No pause to take applause. No silence on the concourse. I rest my head to sleep to the drilling pitch of C. Goodnite tormentors, Goodnite friends, tomorrow I wake to you again.
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My skin’s so tight,
it doesn’t fit. Yet I keep growing in spite of it. I’ve got to go. I’ll leave the shell behind for another to use, while I find more space to move (why not? – other slowpokes do). Silly, sweet, expandable me, dreams of shedding the coat stained with ennui. |
AuthorHello, I'm Dana! Welcome to my poetry site! I write when inspired, from the heart, and with empathy for shared human emotions. I hope my words provide connection to our common experience; perhaps a tear or chuckle or a knowing nod to reflect we're not alone. Thank you for visiting! Archives
September 2023
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