Please don’t fix (me)
My doubt.
I do not mind
So much the heave
Of it.
I am not mad (mad my son)
Awake the deep
And dawn
Awake they
Dream in me
(the hue of which)
Unseen trembles
Bones and sighs
Languid dewy
Tongues
I am not mad
(mad my son is)
Please don’t
Clench burn chested
Question cough
(sputter) recant
(I can’t)
the tepid
limp is friend
weak knees
you know my son is married soon
seizes her mirror
brain and rides
the whisper beat
of ink around.
I am mad for
All mumbling minds
Merely making mirrors of sleeping
Eyes
To rash the wind
Dare rods of light
The opening
Of palm against
The stinging
Rain in parched
Joints
All Ink is mad
To blot the sky away
You are mad(I) do not mind
alive

Sarah is a poet & artist living out life and faith through the beautiful mess of humanity. She currently is raising two boys with her amazing blogging husband and has dreams of traveling the world.