In A Laugh

his laugh is familiar

like an old couch that swallowed me
every night, while I dreamed of
an old waxen witch

my hands are angry tonight,
but all I can think about is
that old couch,

wrapping me in its faded blue
arms, holding my fright in
its warped interior,
sucking me away from solitude

before any man, I found intimacy
in stretched fabric, I relinquished my
sweet innocence to an upholstered
mass

and find it all again,
in a laugh.

 

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24 thoughts on “In A Laugh

  1. it’s a lovely ode to your old couch; it would feel very proud if it could read the poem 🙂 and btw thanks for subscribing to my blog

  2. It has such a sweet familiarity to it that I love and respond to so very much. Thank you for the spelunking trip down the halls of memory.

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