Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

Junkyard Chatter

Take me where the palm trees grow
Where my heart, wrapped in snow
Can melt away, tow my mind
To a hidden junkyard where I might find
A bicycle,  newspapers, broken toys, moldy books
That others threw away without a second look
Old trap music CDs, the trees wink and tap
My shoulder, my hands hold a wooden baseball bat
I searched for the glove, I found a worn deck of
52 wild cards, none were spades or torn up hearts

“Why is life so hard?” groaned a rusty ladder from the shade
As I pushed it down, glass shattered,
Breaking it’s fall on a wire fence
I crawled over it, without looking back
I have a full house – snake eyes in my shirt

Unpacked my steps onto the
whining pavement, (“ouch! that hurt!”)

“Have you seen the pollen, do you know
Where the rain went?” asked the wind

“I’m not quite sure,” I reprimand.
“You stole their petals, now they’re naked, staring.
You ripped them bare without much caring.
But I have an armor of metal, you see.
Within my house you’ll never get to me.”

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