Ambisinistrous

123 15 15

by anomiestill

by anomiestill

I don’t really understand why

there’s so many pieces of dry

lint still sitting in the corner—

this isn’t a home for mourners,

and true, it’s been months and I’ve felt no need to cry.

Furthermore, I’ve mastered the art

of overfilling first, in part,

and second, in sleeping all day

and still I say my mind will stray

(I will not be waiting for “progression” to start).

Maybe it’s about the weather;

multi-directional tether,

inflates, makes my eyelids sticky

and my spine knobs rickety,

Still my head finicky and light as a feather.

*I wrote this in the style of a Florette #2, inspired by @seasofme's beautiful poem, "omen in light syrup"