a poem a day for a year #233

by Amy Turn Sharp


Something is happening to me. I am on the verge of fire. Combustion. My body is a compass. Tell me where I am. My mouth can’t open wide enough. I want everything. I want you and the gun-metal skyline in my vision. I want to remember this. Now and all at once.  I would write it on buildings. On bridges. On your back in finger pens. This is happening. Clocks spin. I shake. I would scare you. Scare anyone and everyone in any cardinal direction.