April is National Poetry Month!
This poem took a right turn somewhere. When I started writing it, I was thinking about reading, and how what you read can change you. I’m not quite sure what it’s about now.
Rogue poetry is like weeds. But weeds can be pretty.
Image from WikiCommons by adrian.benko
Words like Rain
People talk about words
falling on them like a gentle rain
or soaking in like sunshine
But people aren’t plants
and I didn’t wait
rooted
for your words
I hunted for your speech
to pierce me
bloom in my blood
a virus
Once infected
I battled
feverish
to prevent your words
from rewriting mine
Crippled
your words
flow with the beat of my heart
antibodies
against another infection
