by D.C. Porder
february hits like morphine.
the trees pass out
and drop their leaves.
my blood pools at the base
of the thermometer.
i call. i try to talk. i hike
through your white silence
and leave footprints.
february injects me
with something worse
than my life. i try
to stay awake, really
i try. i call. please
pick up. please
christina
get me out of this place.
*D.C. Porder's blog:
http://www.dcporder.blogspot.com/
February 7, 2009
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February
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1 comments:
I love this poem so much. It speaks to me. I hope you don't mind that I have posted a narration of it on my youtube channel "Fifty2Weeks"....it seemed very apt. I have posted a link to your blog and quoted you as the author.
If you want me to remove it I will of course
Regards
John
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