Francesca Martin Poetry

When will the responsibility rise
out of the steam when I cry
not for the person
but my troubles within

When will my eyes' telescope refocus
Flipping others from upside-down to erect
Not a reflection
The almond shaped lens connecting
discovering other planets
revolving

When I don't worry that tears that never fall
will reveal the true identity
not pretty at all
The make-up and the salt
mix and slide off the thin surface
And what is left


The shame outside twisted inside-out
like the socks taken off
and buried in the hamper
waiting to be washed
the shallow-end

Poet: Francesca Martin