growing

My hands are starting to look
more like my mothers.
Settled skin,
deeper knuckle creases,
thinning fingers
as though the
layers of youngness have shed.
I am just noticing.
The entire length of my body
is finding it’s way to a state
of adulthood—as the lines
that frame my mouth seem
to stay well after my grin
has forgotten the joke.
I want to cling to everything
so tightly—grip the youth in
my eyes,
the softness of my skin,
his hands,
with violent fierceness.
The sun is out for far less hours
in a day then I can ever remember
before.  Months pass, years.
And those few things I can see
in my future but haven’t quite
caught seem to be hanging like
a carrot on a string, and all
I can do is chomp at the bit.
A tired horse.  Dark eyes.
And wait.
Advertisements

Categories: Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 176 other followers

Heartbeat Nosh Salt Lake City restaurants

Featured on LocalEats

LocalEats featured blog

Followers

Archives

Hits since July 30, 2012

  • 103,277 visits
%d bloggers like this: