At Six, When…

Wandering gets desperate
to test the edges, crying
about so much to see.
My uvula rattles.
My eyelids twitch,
operatic and jubilant.

The heart brittles
a muscling out of chairs
as time reclines to
anesthetize.

I wipe witch hazel
on the parts that move
and press through
these narrowing streets.

Most magnificent, Larry. A wondrous little poem. Got to be picked in due course.

milner

Thank you Milner.

Second read was delicious.  Not sure about your stanza divisions, but still a good pick.  Well done.

d

I really like this.  Absolutely unpredictable in the reading of it.

Larry~ Witch hazel, uvula... yum! Unexpected and entrancing work.
take care~dale

A real gem of a pick, D, to proudly head this site. Ole!

milner

What a surprise to find this here. Thanks D and all for the notes.

I love this, start to finish -- but perhaps Identify Most with final stanza, the particularity of not rubbing witch hazel everywhere, but only on the parts that are still of some use, somehow . . . Fine one, Larry, and great front page pick. 

Glad to see this here Larry - much enjoy seeing it each day!  xo M

the ends of each line does not rhyme with each end, but this brings back memories of childhood.

LOL!

Forgot to congratulate you for the front page pick. Well, well deserved. (Before it got promoted, I was going to tell you I always mentally made a stanza-break after 'to see.' but now, well...) Like the dizziness and weariness of this. Ole!

Take care,

-O