PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Bedridden
and past expiration
like old milk
one refuses
to pour out.
How over the years
I have gulped.

In and out
like a flickering bulb
with light
still
to offer;
I pretend
it’s a disco.

But…

From where
your lyric
once formed
escape only
insistent
but fragmented
yelps,
like a baby
learning to speak,
but in reverse.

And I weep
relentlessly
at this symmetry
while you deliver
once more
your song
through a raspy squeal.