Warming up with some flash poetry. Hope you like it. Just wrote it. Love, CA
Goat
Sister tells me her move is over; Yes, it went well.
Currently, she is counting spoons. That damn robin
is nesting on my window. Time scratches. How many
moons have I seen through the eyes of hungry, pawing
horses. No more. Then, and only then, the fanlike lashes
were sideways spokes. Go ahead, travel this whole world,
because movement is safe, where the jokes are thick,
and the women are waves, and the children belong
to the crowd. Then fly home. Stay. Sit in a hard-backed,
antique chair until terror comes to you -- a second hand
coat, a thin skin -- and hail becomes fire. Because for you,
stillness has no windows. One hand on the goat, I’ll help
you rise up. I’ll help you find the two cleanest saucers.
C.A. MacConnell
