The Times

The history of teal

or how to take the coffee back

or what about hymns we sung

and how come you don’t listen

after you ask a question

and then there are the overflowing

dresser drawers

and unshowered days

but I’m not drinking

because the body is better clean

it rains in new york like the city needs it

 the taxis are all wearing red lipstick taillights

I’m not complaining about the man whose hair

curls around his collar but barely

in Galway there is this pier and this fog right

but I’m supposed to be here now

and if I keep writing I’ll get better or I’ll go to grad school

and that will be something

because more debt is something

come on sweetie you don’t need help

to pull this off

but no one told me and I’m not grown

enough to read between those lines

and the tendons snap back over the bones

underneath skin and it feels like a rubber band

guitar or like working the long shift in the morning

or like prayer with holes in my shoes

how I chose this

phone attached to brain waves

because it looked better than not taking

the mark of the beast

the end of time is the beginning

of a new surrealist era

and my body is a cello

the history of blood retells itself in gold

the hotter the wax the faster it dries

I am sealing myself

a letter written backwards

who’s to say what the trunk can hold

there are these paintings in the rain

and you’re busy right

and my mother is a gun but don’t ask how

because it always comes back to this

writing thing

the history of a color unfolds in light

blooms like a jungle flower in rain

you were always pits of cars

the cupboard closed

on fruit too ripe

the light that set the house on fire

About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
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2 Responses to The Times

  1. Franchesca says:

    Love it Amy!

  2. Paul says:

    Hope all is well with my favorite Poet!!! Miss you. Still see your thoughts come beautifully to pen…or is that typing in today’s tech world:)

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