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Wooden
June 17, 2015
To maintain a face
of wooden
normality,
I twist around truths.
With “where were you”
comes “not at a store
or a garage sale” if I
had been hiding
in the wood shop.
To “how are you”
I reply, “not bad” if I
feel not bad but
fire-blackened with grief.
Truths, twisted.
If I do not lie
with the presence of words,
if I lie simply
with the omission
of them, my
nose will remain
its desired length.
© Edgard B., Coral Springs, FL
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