I am a little girl
kicking suns
I am an old woman
sitting in a pool of laughs
I am the sun
coming up every day
to harden your heart
There’s a call to arms
in all our red glass mouths
white hot dripping glass
blown by some kind of
angelic thing
Solidifying
in the shape of
a call to arms
in all our red glass mouths
Sometimes mothers don’t love their children
Sometimes the sun is not here to warm us
Sometimes you kick whatever you can
Sometimes you find a warm seed
inside your chest glowing
brighter each time you kick
Sometimes you remember
our mothers felt us all kick
and they glowed.
Joanna Kurimsky is originally from New Jersey, where, despite the proximity of the sea, she suffered over a decade of writer’s block. Currently living in Portland, OR, she is finding her voice again, as well as banging away on an old typewriter, making jewelry and crafts, walking dogs, petting cats, and learning to play guitar. She finally bought a real raincoat and expects it will change her life significantly. Joanna would like to acknowledge her creative buddies at NoPoSpoWo for their kind words and mind melding. Connect with her online and on Twitter: @mojopineapple
Reblogged this on a dreamy scrape.
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