Acupuncture By Charlotte Reed - Get a Free Blog

At some point he left me, the wreck,
because women and children go fi rst.
I let the clink of the ice, the rush
of the Johnny Walker Blue
ease me down, be my violins.
I wanted a ship in a bottle.
I can break apart,
wait at Mistaken Point,
sloshing in my drawings.
Life looks good in boxes,
when I form it without thinking.
He twisted what I gave him,
became a “mad man.”
I live for the lines of the ship,
tucked within their glass,
the sail, the mast, the rush, the clink.
My son was enough of a thrill.
magus ~ 16 ~ mabus