I have not felt my legs in four years.
I hate months. Each carries different
demons. November is a home-wrecker.
Prancing in lives
like a horse,
with a horse,
trampling my legs,
shattering a fragile life.
He went with the moon.
A silver carriage
whisking him into the night.
I laid on the floor in
a broken heap. Expecting.
A cloud came in and took his place.
Pouring sharp gulp after gulp.
Until, questions came.
Until the bugs crawled through
my nostrils,
dragging hallucinations behind them
on chains.
I loved them. For a moment,
I loved them. But their names changed.
On a basis.
We went infrared together.
Having seizures and one night stands.
Dancing black dances.
Taxi after taxi. Until,
the cloud cleared. Left me like he did.
November was not anymore,
and still I cannot feel my legs.
maggiemaeijustsaythis 
wow gal, from someone who was actually paralyzed for a time and recovered, this poem hits the physical side like a capital M-monster…there is so much here that i feel and see but do not “understand” the full story of–which fascinates me–and inspires me to write about the physicality of paralysis…”ouch, and oh, and oh my” is what i say…you combine words with a choked glorious genius. excellent.
I know EXACTLY what you mean.
This reminded me of a few nasty experiences.
Me either Maggie
A remarkable piece. Thank you.
Deep , deep. I like it !
OMG…my heart is beating faster…I can feel everything…agony.
Definitely ascetic in content but beautiful in emotions that hitch your soul to a star! Thanks Maggie~Sincerely Deborah
Wow, your words make me feel. Triggers of a past, and some in the present. They inspire me to go deeper.
🙂 I’m so glad you like them. Thank you for reading and for taking a second to comment!