Monday, October 6, 2014

Headline Poem 10/6/14 -- Words


Sometimes words
drip like honey on the end of 
a spoon,
anticipating the swim in the warm mug of chamomile. 
Sometimes words
refuse to move, stopped like hair
tangled and matted, stuck 
in a brush 
      after spinning. 
Sometimes words 
speak to strangers despite the warnings, throwing danger to the wind 
for the third day in a row.