to jules, the boy butterfly, cocooned somewhere in a sleepingbag,
drinking starlight and sleeping under god.
with autumn dust on his feeble eyelashes.
who is teaching me to look past the clouds in the morning,
just before i get into my car to rush off somewhere and wait..
wait..
just for a bit, wait...
to see the geese triangle through the sky kissing the ripe lemon moon goodbye.
i'll send them off north with a wave of my tiny hand,
wishing i knew what that felt like.
to the boy cocooned,
whose materialisms are the sounds of crickets and breeze through the jungle grass.
and the atlantic sweet water falling from the pacifics cotton clouds.
who taught me that its ok to open the lid and let the fireflies go.
for this is an act braver than any i know.
they still illuminate the walls of my ribcage quietly leaving behind trails of delicious light around my heart.
to the boy butterfly,
who is unafraid...
posted by drew carlascio
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
so crazy, the poem im working on has a cocoon in it too, but its made of cobblestone!
Well, you know your style, and this definitely is the drew poem. For me, I really like the moment in the poem where it changes tempo to "and wait.. /wait../ just for a bit, wait..."
overall a beautiful poem!
thank you!
yeah, it is one of your best. it stirred up an emotion in my that needed to be stirred.
Post a Comment