bloody awful poetry – William S. Friday

And Please Don’t Call Me When You Read This Because I’m Fine

Seen first on Instagram Stories @billfriday

On Instagram (@billfriday if you’re curious) I do original, multi-media content on my stories page.

This is one of those Instagram Stories.

Words and photo are mine, and mine alone. Click the Instagram link in the right margin for more.

Expositing

“Why can’t you tell me how you really feel?”

You mean like, expositing

the shooting star, blazing

through the night sky?

In that moment, gazing?

Catch me when my tears dry.

Today is for counting my wasted yesterdays
Each one neatly lined up
row on dusty row

Every year the same

Today is for remembering your unborn tomorrows
And the time I sit
because walking is too slow

There is no blame

Today is for pretending to make sense of the past
From a life ended
with nothing to show

When I speak your name

Today is for thinking that memories last
But all they do is fade
until they go

Like every unfinished song to be sung
About the death of a son

I grew up on a moon

orbiting

the planet Oklahoma.

You loom,

blushing,

like the full moon

that rises,

red,

through the clouds

at sunset.