Crooked MAG

January 15, 2010
By Morgan Bierman BRONZE, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
Morgan Bierman BRONZE, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I could write a poem that no one could tell was for you,
Or for anyone.
It would be about the rickety tire swing,
carelessly strewn atop the cold woodchip ­covered dirt.
And the stained plastic slide,
the red tint remaining from your late-night stumble.
Slurred speech from four missing wisdom teeth,
your tongue tracing canyons
in your Vicodin-numbed gums.
A buzzing mosquito around a bare leg
stuck outside,
pleading to be let in.
It would be about the rusted swing,
the sharp smell of iron stinging the inside of our nostrils,
and the crooked seesaw,
unwilling to budge from its place.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Feb. 2 2012 at 9:13 pm
laurensoccer SILVER, Palm Beach Gardens, Florida
8 articles 0 photos 67 comments
The imagery is fantastic. You are a great writer and please keep writing!!!!


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