Yesterday I waited
At the doctor’s, crossword in hand
Every now and then
New people came in
Like palms unfurling new leaves
Tender in illness.
Their words luminous on phones
Fireflies on trees,
They take off, noiseless
To their lands of love or dreams
Rain, sorrow or wars.
A nurse draws blood, fluid words
Alcohol laced words
They gush out and stain my wrist,
Words tiptoe in and out of rooms
Trapeze walk of life
Passing footsteps,
Moons of manicured nails
Hold words, clenched
Covered in skin
Feverish in truthfulness
I sit repeating life,
In a crossword.
editors note:
A figure of speech applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable. 8 letters, starts with “M.” (We welcome Jaya to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay