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Poetry Breakfast

Serving a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry book reviews to feed poets' and poetry lovers' souls.

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M. Stone

Not Blue, But Black – A Poem by M. Stone

Not Blue, But Black

She spent childhood afternoons
at the bathroom sink, hand washing

and wringing, cutting her twelve-
year molars on hunger for certainty.

Riddled by compulsive tics, her feet encased
in depressive concrete, she survived with pills

and ravenous hope. Now, inching toward forty,
she will not partake in the scavenger hunt

for absolute truth. She no longer seeks comfort
serene as the weightless saltwater womb.

During dingy gray days when her body
is pain-dulled and her mind dead-set

on devouring itself, when joy is elusive
as the god particle, she cocoons her flesh

with clean sheets and settles for ten-hour stretches
of oblivion, death served in bite-sized pieces.

 

 

About the Poet:
M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in San Pedro River Review, SOFTBLOWCalamus Journal, and numerous other print and online journals. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  TwitterFacebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

Cusp of Autumn – A Poem by M. Stone

Cusp of Autumn

We feast on ripe watermelon slices
as the hardwood floors of the old house
rot beneath us, and barn cats—
feral until it comes time for begging—
circle the front porch.

I wear my favorite dress,
the same pink shade as the pulpy fruit
on my tongue, and now inches
too short despite the drooping hem.
I am growing fast and the days
are hands at my back, shoving me
onward even as I stumble.

Through the open window I watch
the tire swing stir in the breeze.
An apple tree litters the ground
with yellow globes that release
a sweet scent in their rotting,
reminding me of fall,
of cold orchard cider.

 

 

About the Poet:
M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in San Pedro River Review, SOFTBLOW, Calamus Journal, and numerous other print and online journals. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.

 

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

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