I eat pumpkin curry but the making of intimidates me for some unexplored reason. Perhaps, the cutting up of the heavy, recalcitrant, bulbous body.
Why do some announce: I don't read poetry; I don't get it.
Perhaps, they make pumpkin curry on a regular basis. I could learn much from them.
Am I suggesting fear is a teacher? The unknown a mentor?
no daggers shining she steps back
ReplyDeletefrom the open door
is there a chance that the risk
should not be taken?
no answers present themselves
as they gaze around the portal
unseen by the guards and their
incessant chatter, she bends down
and inspects the stones thrown in patterns
tries to make a sentence or a phrase
but no power is found beyond her own
and she feels the coax of sleep, a warm breeze