Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Picking Up

Out of habit, I pick up dirty laundry
--mine and everyone else’s—

Also millions of things that scatter
twig-like all over my life:
rose branches, rakes, rods,
baseball bats, even javelins
equipped with hidden barbs,
spikes, pins, thorns
to sting, slash, draw blood.

No need for Band-Aid or wraps,
I let my plasma trickle out,
so on my wounds,
poems can collect like flies.


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prompt: Pick up sticks