Scars

I can see others
Get through
They laugh
They have love

If I try hard enough
Hold out long enough
Walk over enough coals
To the other side

This will get better
But in the midst of hell
You have only one desire
And that is to get out of it

Douse the heat with tears
Or alcohol (flammable)
You can step off for a moment
Until the ground shifts

You can’t stand standing
In narrow strips between pits
There is a door on the other side
People seem to make it out

But not everyone.
Some lay down
Some go back
Some stand, perpetual

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, January 2018

Perfect World

Wake and journal.
A few pages.

Coffee, but all after
I feed the pets.
They won’t wait for me.

Nor will my muse.
Write anyway.

Breakfast.
Morning, raw creation.

Lunch.
Afternoon, read or edit.

Cats won’t let it be past 4.
They get fed at 5, as do I.

Evenings dedicated to jazz, to wine,
To poetry read aloud to a lover,
To dishes, to hot baths, to hot sex.

Paycheck.
Public speaking.

Finished books.
Finished drafts to be books.
Drafts in progress. Drafts to be.

Cycling, cooking.
Music, dreaming.
Dancing, travel.
Dining, friends.

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, October 2017