the plates themselves were so light
so easily 

but heavy indeed
was that subsequent
broken china 

was the arguing before
and heavy
was the anger after 
wrangling over the ruins 
the debate running on 
the air sludgy
with it

can’t think in air
this heavy

a heavy

ripened on rage
sullen success
and secret glee at scorched earth

a smothering heavy

a pillow on your face
while you sleep

a lie alone
for the rest of your life 
kind of heavy

a kind
you can’t lift alone

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

Comments are disabled.

%d bloggers like this: