by Bobi Leutschaft Poitras
Not very cheerful…but I drew a picture 🙂
Crucifying Myself What is a door But a thing to walk through Or close on the world As I so often do I keep a pen And a bottle of gin Under my pillow Just in case it busts in I’ve written down In my journal of rust All the humans I know And the dogs that I trust I have kept track Of each stitch that I got And keep every scar In a little green pot Here by my side Lie my most cherished thoughts So cuddly and warm And all tangled in knots My well-laid plans Come to me in the night To sleep at my feet As I turn out the light All hope is pinned On a board in the hall It’s not very much So it’s written real small In the event that it all somehow fails I still have my crutch And this bucket of nails ©Bobi Leutschaft Poitras, February 2022
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