Purge

She purges her purse
of items accumulated
when she was meek
and frightened:
a porcelain pendant,
etched on its face
a flower in bloom;
a coffee stained napkin,
the ring a muddy moon;
a skeleton key;
a rose colored marble;
a picture of herself at eighteen.
She is purging her soul of things
made potent
by the fingerprints of ghosts.

It was around age 13 that I began to be struck daily by waves of words as lyrics and couplets. Soon, I began to cherish certain bits and pieces of adolescent poetry I was creating and found myself quite saddened when something I was fond of would be forgotten. So, I began to write them down.

mgwoodpoetry.wordpress.com

instagram.com/garebear1

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com 

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