Broken Po’em

Open and shut
In nobody’s hut
Up on the north beach.
With fiddles and wagons
And sugar plum biters
We push open our hutch.

We slide
We ride
And dig deep inside
With rags on our hands.

Waiting
And Jading
With noone abating
About what I like.

I find myself
Without a rope
To pull myself up.
I jump,
I grind
All messed-up inside
I look to demote.

Without a shelter
To cover my head
To keep me warm at night.
I press, digress
I will not opress
My tears in delight.

In yearning
I’m learning
To open my heart
And clean out this mess.

I’ll find
And wind
The broken inside
And find what I like.

©2003 Joseph Jenkins