Posted in art, creative writing, poetry, writing

The Last Word

 

The last Word  A poem can be a line, she said.  I couldn’t leave it without justifying, barking thoughts after the fact, a defense mechanism, an expression of my own apprehension to accept simplicity.  I worry what they all think, what he thinks, fear manifested in ramblings that say nothing.  A poem can be a line.

I’m having an out of body experience at the moment, looking at the last week of my life from across a room. I see it and I think I feel it, but I can’t quite believe it’s mine. 

Celebrate luck with wine, good food, and many many hugs. 

–Leanne Rebecca

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