Here's a poem from a book of poetry I'm reading right now by Charles Simic called The World Doesn't End.
"I was stolen by gypsies. My parents stole me right back. Then the gypsies stole me again. This went on for some time. One minute I was in the caravan suckling the dark teat of my new mother, the next I sat at a long dining room table eating my breakfast with a silver spoon.
It was the first day of spring. One of my fathers was singing in the bathtub; the other one was painting a live sparrow the colors of a tropical bird."
Thoughts?
-A
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love that. The words bring about such colourful points: "dark", "silver", "day", "bathtub", "tropical".
ReplyDeleteI also like the word "stole". That someone would steal me away to love forever.
Cheesey. I know :)