Thursday, March 01, 2012

Little pictures of confession

Am I trying too hard, When
I should just be plain Nothing
hidden and nothing deep, us
little pictures of confession

moments others would leave
locked up and untold, rather
to tell them and hold red
hands up for the crime

The long straggling line errant, breaking, time

Words on kids robbed
of innocence or youth
Come against adult failing left,
Out when thought tucked away

More couplets of outcomes mirroring guilt
In their own grown ways

Out of curiosity I read some of Nick Flynn's poetry.  This arose

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