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.

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About Sean O'Gorman

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

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