A little poem about keys
Familiar
Easy to grow attached to the feel
of their curves and notches,
every day their same weight
in our fingers. How long
can we last without changing
the locks? Shall we wear
ourselves smooth as house keys
held for years in front pockets?
Easy to grow attached to the feel
of their curves and notches,
every day their same weight
in our fingers. How long
can we last without changing
the locks? Shall we wear
ourselves smooth as house keys
held for years in front pockets?
Labels: poems
posted by Amanda at
2:28 PM
3 Comments:
Why does this poem make me feel like I'm going to cry? It must be about something more than keys, or maybe keys mean more than I thought. Anyway, great use of questions.
I really like that. It has the sort of feel of a Philip Larkin poem - starts out in the very mundane and everyday, but moves into the far-reaching with a nuance and ease. :)
Many thanks!
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home