Or at least carry something –
the shopping, a tray,
this raw and bleeding heart
cut from my chest,
the burden
the burden of my
foolish choices, my misplaced faith,
the washing basket,
the drinks
I don’t know.
carry yourself
head high back straight shoulderblades pulled together belly tight chin up
point your toes
move your hands smoothly or keep them tight at your waist
carry me home with one shoe dangling swinging from my left foot,
or carry me off trussed in too tight dress and thrown sack over shoulder
or carry a tune
or a message in code that only I can decipher and burn after reading
carrion
Chasing rabbits with Ms Quickly today. Two words: “carry me”.
Sarah writes poems 
Fabulous. Yes sometimes we do feel like carrion. But must carry on…
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Super poem! I love the way you capture the woman’s impatience with her husband’s failure to use his imagination to see what needs to be done.
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Yeah, I liked that too. You could feel the impatience.
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Fun!
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Heavens. Brilliant. LOVE this, Sarah.
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Brilliant one here, Sarah! I love the ending play on words.
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Very well crafted, witty, and fun. Thanks for sharing this.
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Thank you for reading!
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