by Carmen Mason
I’m the burnt crust of the
canned fruit pie
I’m the contact lens in a
stone blind eye
I’m the locked tight fence that
allows all entries
I’m the dagger straight rain
in a forest of bent trees
I’m the crooked front tooth
in the shy girl’s smile
I’m Martha Stewart without
any style
I’m the Tower of Pisa
leaning way into France
I’m Fred and Ginger without
any dance
I’m the last strong door
sans lock or latch
I’m mismatched,
shoddy, uber- smashed
But still, bet on me
you won’t waste your time
A peakless mountain is
still worth the climb
I have been writing poems all my life. They are sighs of joy, cries for help, testaments of love and loss, refuge and epiphany. They surprise, console and astound me. Just like friends and strangers do.