You are a storm without warning;
cactus spikes with no body sticking
up from the middle of the road;
your stinging mouth always moving,
asking, singing; you are kinetic,
never potential; winged and buzzing;
your hands, your legs, all of you is
growing, no longer small; you are colors
and noise, a traffic jam downtown
at 4:30 on a gorgeous Friday afternoon;
a jet cruising through the clouds; a Pollock
painting come to life; scrambled eggs frying
in a pan; a tangle of weed roots on the side
of the garden; sticky Kool-Aid drying
on the counter; the bite of gravel into skin;
the finch’s sudden flight.
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Beautiful. I belive I know this child.
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There’s so much to love about this poem- hearing you read it is even better.
Great list poems. They’re harder to do than people may think. Well done!
Peace and continued good things for you, in poetry and in life.
Diane
..sure you’re not writing about my son…? smiles
i found him in your lines
now he’s 18, but he was like this when he was 7 – a storm without warning..
great poem Rachel!