POETRY -
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Sloshing words, all of them needy - Weebly.com
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Inside the Pandemic
by Roberta Greifer
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I’m sloshing words, all of them needy
and begging for a handout. But there’s no shoulder to cry on. So I enter the zone of self-pity where I wander in my imagination trying to catch a glimpse of my former life. The memories of it are blacked-out windows and I can’t see the events on my calendar, only splattered marks. Today is written with invisible ink. Trying to remember joy is like paring an apple that never gets smaller. Suddenly, I hear music, an impoverished melody with faraway notes. The pauses between open like crevices. Pieces of me are stuck in them. What am I forgetting? Instead of feelings at the bottom, there’s only a new more deadly mutation. I curse it under my mask. |
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