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FEATURED POEM - VOLUME 1 | ISSUE 1: May December

May-December

By, Allana Jones


The feeling of incompetence was dressed in the heels of a May Brunch

The generation was too big and more fitting for December

The patina of a feigned wisdom

as sage as the leaves that burned inside the home

that left behind ashes of oxidized innocence

with a small kindling of jaded origins.

Staying gold but with a lost luster

He wondered why he couldn’t return to that room

return to that bed, disheveled and haphazard,

or rather, why he wouldn’t

Instead, he left her to close the door


left her wanting so badly to tell him he could lay in the bed he made-

Her bed.


A lifetime of passion her senior

she was dwarfed by the weight of his

indifference

felt it on her shoulders.

Her neck, stained with his lips

the scratches on her back

made deeper by his pulling away

Or her pushing- she couldn’t tell

And yet.

Her back arched

And arched more with the twist

of the dagger;

the yin of pleasure

With the yang of borrowed time.

She’s stuck in May,

looking to December,

yearning for the season

but blind to the dog days in between.

What will December be like, she wonders.

Will it smell like him? Will it look like him?

The crux of a temporal certainty

Telling her no.

He will be gone

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2 comentários


Suchita Senthil Kumar
Suchita Senthil Kumar
22 de fev. de 2022

This poem has my heart, I love this

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Ken LeMarchand
Ken LeMarchand
22 de fev. de 2022

Oh how the passing days of transgression move forward while the children of dust are left to watch and wonder, in piles of bones scattered throughout this Earth. God's land was left long ago, uplifted by the torrential winds of time and passing mirrors, whose reflections we star children gaze into reluctantly with swollen eyes from days gone merrily into sunsets, lost but never forgotten. Wondering if it was all worth it in the end, but left in a room of unbroken silence, cursed to ruminate this foreboding question alone. But that's the beauty of living an unhinged life, free to make of this world what we will and left to contemplate the outcomes as the comet comes plunging from…

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