New Found Veins

Saturday, April 3, 2021

when I wake up I try to remember / what age I should be / on a Saturday filled with shades of champagne / not the age of my bones / but the age when my cheeks are rosy / realms of fantasy meet in the southeast corner / on the map of our hometown / weeds pour out of my fingertips / like the new found veins that brought the abandoned car back to life / lores around here can’t be trusted / but I believe in the day greenery sprung from crying hills / forests split their palms open to claim years of rust and broken howls / if only to give breath back to a town taught to hold theirs / I do this at a cost / my spine cracks / like a skater who gave into the ice / I dig for the soaring birds / clouds stick beneath my low cut nails / the tree limbs shake sense into me / honey floods the sunset / I don’t waste a moment guzzling it down / and the warmth awakens something in the back of my throat 


This poem was published by Gnashing Teeth Publishing. 

Post a Comment

© Kelli Lage. Design by FCD.