Something other than plastic plants

I can remember the other day when the light came on,

it shined out into a fury in the air

and split like the branches held razors.

All I could do was stare into anything that could be seen,

but nothing would help hide me, only show me

all the things I could never respond to,

like the fun names that people call me when I’m looking,

looking them in they eye and waiting for a laugh.

These are my quiet prayers,

the moments I keep silent,

like keeping to myself

when the birds sing

and everything else

seems too beautiful to fully remember.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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