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Yellow Words MAG
Dissonance rang through the summer.
Every night I slipped
farther under the sheets. The heat
wisped, blushed until it split
a crack in the sky. I forgot
all the French I had learned
that year, the lyrics
to waltzes I had known
in December. The water
from the showerhead washed
away all the molding, yellow
words. They took a sharp turn
toward the drain. I teased
myself until I couldn’t remember
what he had said when the tree
roots were weak - his words
decayed, too; I felt them dying
down into my subconscious.
I couldn’t speak, I muted
all my lessons.
© Anonymous
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This article has 2 comments.
MuchoImportante said...
on Jan. 13 2010 at 10:14 pm
This happens to me every summer! I'd like to hear what occurs during the monotone of winter break, as well. Please write more for me to read. I like this website.
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