into seam factories
where skin gets sewn
over flesh and bones
I placed my bets
my/our hopes
spirit become filling
the dolls were made to look like us
at a time in our lives when we possessed
or were possessed by great joy
I never understood the power of a smile
until I woke one morning longing for one
I said to myself
a sharp left
while crossing a bridge
is too far a choice rendered
to make it back from
poem in thought
to what buys me another breath
yes, poem says
choose me
to live
to breathe
to love to grieve
I never believed
in a soul having tones
that could be fashioned into a language
but there I was
begging Morpheus
to keep sowing my demise
before my eyes
would wake
and peel/pull
the Sun back over the rooftops
across the streets
I am filled with a sadness
here, at the end of the poem
perhaps I better call in to work
and leave no doubt to how fast
manic goes down hill lasting
past the first cup of coffee
perhaps another to turn the page
maybe a small orange
or that thought
of you
dolled up again
remembering when
we used to be
instead of some/one/thing else I see
EJR ©
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