Alive Poem by Brett Rogers

Alive



There is a fluffy, blue hydrangea flower (solo and strong) on my parents’ patio.
This Southern Summer storm thrashes at the screens and petals …
The smoke from my cigarette hugs the humidity and eddies,
The radiation from my cell phone swamps my brain,
The alcohol from my beer soaks into every atom …
On this day, today,
We stay.

Friday, March 13, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: death,life
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