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[poem-creep]

Pennies

Today, I found myself penniless. I thumbed the pockets at my sides, then slipped my fingers inside. Warmth of my newly-cleaned jeans welcomed me, but no pennies.

Shoving my hands as far as they could go into my pockets, there was nothing but fresh and comforting warmth. My hands almost fell asleep, as if they were swaddled in a thick blanket and did not have any urge to wake up.

I tried to tug my hands out from my deep pockets, but I was a mess. My hands were stuck, my sore-knuckled, hurting and throbbing hands that were soothed by the warmth.

Yet I tried harder, pulling with all the strength I had until my hands popped off, and pennies poured from the stubs on my wrist.

[poem-creep]

blueberries

The blueberries,

In my warm, warm hands,

They beat as one with my heart.

They breathe,

Deep, deep within my lungs,

They make way, one by one into my body.

It stutters,

My heart, stop-stops it’s pounding,

The blueberries struck their limit.

They’re with me,

Their quiet, quiet breathing.

I can feel my insides sprout again.