the explorer’s guide to poetry (how & where to find it)
it sat on his lap quietly.
corners worn, pages wrinkled.
(his fingers held a tight grip on it, as if trying to keep it from escaping.
as if it had somewhere to go)
it’s on the lips of a particularly eloquent, snappy kid
who read books he pretended to understand
and saw films he pretended to enjoy
to impress people he wasn’t sure existed
(he liked to tell himself they did)
it’s on the headphones cushioning her ears
on the indiscreet footsteps of a 5 year old,
on the humming birds sitting pensively atop a statue
on the post-it note left in a dimly lit office.
& sometimes, it’s where we want it the least.
whether it’s on their journal entries about you
or on the high-pitched curses she tries to break you with.
& sometimes it’s where we need it the most
on the unprompted comforts of a wiser friend
or on the scribbled pages of a child’s notebook.
& someway & somehow, it’s all around.
on century-old symphonies & forgotten lullabies.
on narrow streets. on the stone words of empty graves
on the unkempt minds of beautiful, sagging bookkeepers
raw & flawed & unconstrained.
Madalena Landeira (11K)