Not at 24
written by: Michael Ball
My head was smothered by my heart.
Her emotions were off duty.
What surely might be tragedy
became reportage on the obvious.
She alleged to love me…begrudgingly.
I trod a clear path I could see for us.
I would discuss the lab results.
She would walk to the clinic for closure.
Breeding does not take advanced human skills.
Granddad and Mother’s age was 24
when their children were born. Such symmetry.
We who count steps between telephone poles
revel in elegance of arrangement.
Yet I was not meant for the 24.
This was an ending, but not yet the end.
Michael Ball scrambled from daily and weekly papers through business and technical pubs. Satisfaction and feeling like a writer came through blogging and podcasting, mostly political. Born in OK and raised in rural WV, he became more citified in Manhattan and Boston. He joined the Hyde Park Poets Workshop two years ago, and will never again write a manual or help system. He has moderate success placing poems in print and online.
Latest posts by Michael Ball (see all)
- Separate Strands - March 14, 2023
- Not at 24 - November 22, 2022
- My Ghost - October 20, 2022