I Am Adrift … And
just want to un-write what was just sent,
Isn’t there an I-take-it-back emoji. And
where’s the Undo? Oh, if pigs, all pink and
squealing could fly, we’d all be in the clouds.
Funny, how silence can be a flared-throat.
How it can throw you off a cliff.
and her mystery was gone. Her veneer, mere
sunbaked concrete. I thought I was a boat,
tied to her dock, but when you tell someone,
I love you,
and silence is their reply, you become their
boat cut adrift, and your vanities wash away.
written in response to a prompt from Visual Verse‘s February image by Tom or Judy Moore, poem © Misky 2021