Monday, January 24, 2011

The quill sharpened not for ink pot
pierce my skin
Currency flashes leaving me wretchedly
You want to know
It hasn't even been a month
yet and still you can't get your hands on it fast enough
back off for a minute
take a breath and realize
six weeks ago it did not exist.

1 comment: said...

I like this poem Kristen.
A touch of wisdom thrown in there too