melissaahowells

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At My Gnarled Feet 7/27/2021

Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

Here, After?

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)

And The Next, And The Next..... (written directly to page, will return later for edits)



My Truth Is Out There (re-edited for clarity of thought and image later)

The Better Poem

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

The Last Shall be Trace-less 5/25/2021

Beware When The White Night Calls // re-edited 5/25/2020

BUYING LIES 5/22/2021

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Broken Things Are Beautiful

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

It No Longer Surprises Me...

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

I Long For Stars

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

No Broom Could Chase Me.

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Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat




***************************************

A stark fact once known
is never un-learned.

Small dogs in Southeast Asia
are sometimes lured
for malign purposes.

At night, my right foot
dangles over the edge of my bed--
the way some Southeast Asian fishermen
bait their hooks with small dogs
to catch sharks.

My foot,
half alive, half-not,
my foot
half useful, half-not;
the small dog
half-alive, half-dead,
the horror threading through
his large brown eyes,
not quite comprehending,
but comprehending.

Who
would bait hooks like this?
Who
would slowly kill
my foot?

The answer
isn't found on the baited hook
nor in my useless foot
dangling over the ocean
awaiting the circling sharks.

It begins with small street dogs
wide-eyed with the promise of meat,
a misplacing of trust
and ends in a turbulent ocean...

The answers never given,
not on the baited hook nor
in the dangling foot.

The answer not given
ends
with the shark.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 10:02AN MARCH 5 2021 TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...

THIS POEM CAME TO ME IN A DREAM AND IT SEEMED BOTH APT AND
NECESSARY THAT IT SHOULD BE WRITTEN DOWN.







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