The Writers Voice
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Three
by
Aaron L. White
it's easier to number these.
these rants, these rambles, these ridiculous
ravings of a madman's mind.
all of them coupled up within,
arguing over a synonym here or a
pronoun there -
the conjunctions never fought like this.
why?
they must be sane. must be wiser than
a simple participle presentation of facts.
dangling from limbs on sentences that
seem to have lost track
somewhere.
and it's hard to remember.
where you left off, where you began,
where you started chanting at the moon
and singing "Kum Ba Yah" when you
aren't even sure who is listening…
or if the words even matter.
it's easier to number these.
because when it rains it pours?
because the saints came marching in one day
and took you for all you were worth?
because these words,
OH GOD THESE WORDS,
won't get out of your head?
and then the punctuation chimes in like
grandma's triangle calling you to dinner
to tell you that it is done and
three
sounds like a good number.
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