A Two-Year-Old Poem
something found and something new
Do you see the vapid tongue
of a scarlet lash?
It scrapes your neck thirteen times
when you forget to see.
Rococo or renaissance, crumbling
plaster rituals.
Mouths of porcelain
soft as her morning cereal
sharp as a fingernail.
I already wonder when I should
Leave.
What is next?
Does he sleep when you do?
Trace my arm with a thumb
that isn’t mine.
Crack an egg on my spine
and buy me earplugs.
When is it too late to risk it all
To cry out at the end of an alley?
Running always makes for weak
escapes.
As always, thank you for reading Sometimes Y. Wishing you a peaceful holiday season and joyful new year.
Some recent Instagram saves for fun:
Ok see you in 2026 x
