Apple   Leave a comment

 

 

Frantic mind

Creeping out

And settling in corners

Made by the shade

That falls out of windows

Ushered in by curtains

And the potted plant artillery

That formal folks

Have designed to mark

This room from that

And these stories

From the casual lies we utter

To all the passers by

Who reaffirm the needs and wants

Against the backdrops

And the landslides

Of families torn

Communities spackled rich and full

That leaves us panting for more

And burning for purpose

But we have nothing

Just tan lines

Freckles and splotches

Bruises and the leathery reminders

And a hope like cancer

Eating away at us

Doubt is our free clinic

But in the long lines

We cave

And the Jesus nurses

Offer us forgiveness, comfort, compassion

All for the price of eternal sin

An apple a day

Be still my reasoning mind

And sink my teeth into

This luscious regret

 

 

 

Jen Czahur

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