By Molly Swan-Sheeran

I am a temporary life form
Here on the third place out
I try to keep fed and to keep warm.

I wander, in a slurry of self-doubt
And self-love, and laughter, and stink
From clue to vague clue what about.

I climb and I fall and am round, pink
And hairy and starry and sore,
Staring up at the heavens that nod/wink.

What else could I do as a brain chore
In my own slip-shod eye of the storm?
Entertaining the gods. Only bores bore.

I am a temporary life form
Here on the third place out
I try to keep fed and to keep warm.

Copyright © 2002 by Molly Swan-Sheeran

Posted in Poetry |