Category Cadence

Inner Girl Child

For Lindy I’ve written this poem a thousand times in my head Before I ever put pen to paper. You see, there’s a part of me that’s not–not a lot– Just some flotsam discarded on a road long unguarded. I left Lindy by the wayside before I turned 25, And although I tried, I couldn’t stop looking Over-shoulder to see if she came after. She followed me home until I

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Cold as a dry cube of ice sticking to my tongue, your eyes freeze me in suspended animation, a harsh interjection when all I wanted was a pretty lie,  not the naked truth.

Have It All

Smoke billows Ice clinks The clickity-clack of the Remington Like a train on the tracks  Speeding into the next The ding signals the end Heels slip on And she is gone *** Amy Harrison is an artist who loves all things vintage and coffee. She currently resides in Colorado Springs with her husband, hound dog, and butler. (Full disclosure: the butler is a tuxedo cat.) 

Poetry Addict

I’m pheening for words Wringing shaking hands Touching tapping fingers to glands Wondering if I’m getting sick Needing the fix Worse than nicotine Worse than anything I’ve ever dreamed   I am an addict Addicted to poetry Seriously It’s better at disseminating pain Than a couple of oxy’s   Poetry gets deep Excises emotional puss Drains the wound And let’s me sleep   Phrases pound baseline Walking through Wal-Mart Beating

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Duct Tape

Today, I decided to stop Duct taping my sides together. Holding guts inside Became too painful.   First, my lungs expanded Air rushed sweet into New distance My ribs no longer bound breath So when you gently touched hair Straying across my face, the wind did not stop, Continued filling my chest Blessing each breath   Second, each step Essential with connection, Your presence, humming electric, Illuminated fascia, connective tissues

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Saying goodbye to you Is like saying goodbye to my reflection Every morning after careful inspection Of each line and wrinkle I will forget I have Throughout the course of the day Seeing you unexpectedly Is like electrons sparking off a copper plate There’s no debate We had a connection And electric charge Discharging perfection Before morning came and The bright whites of your eyes Beheld dialects of destruction The

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