Poetry | Brenda Bishop Blakey

Habits
Our habits will end our existence or
else power our fortunes—
a message drilled from world’s end.

We have the right to anger,
stomping ourselves off a cliff,
a mad dog, pit-bull split against self.

While others stay in place,
use the language of love and
wish for universal prosperity—

Some of us rip through our time,
a log burning down in a hearth,
sizzle, then puff out through the chimney.

I choose the long hello, by the numbers,
the slow boring drink sipped from
a porcelain cup with matching saucer.

He tries a death rattle, its whistle muffled
by six, single breaths whispered back to
someone he thought once loved him.

Words combined from two consecutive weeks from The Sunday Whirl:
Wordle #164: single, right, power, sizzle, muffled, back, language, numbers, existence, stomping, hello, place
Wordle #165: wish, porcelain, split, cliff, whistle, rip, chimney, habits, drilled, six, fortunes, drink, pit

Image: Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte
From Magpie Tales, Mag 224