she is a burnt out matchstick
bruised by thought battles
lost in the war of herself
I picture her being saved
by myself or anybody else
taken to a safe place
where there are
clean towels and avocados
she could lock the bathroom door
stand naked under hot water
all soap and steam and skin
but she holds her own hand
and she doesn’t want to be saved
I guess I am soft, overly romantic
I ought to mind my own affairs
and let her fade away
Matthew J. Hall’s poetry chapbook, Pigeons and Peace Doves, is available through Blood Pudding Press. He reviews small press books at http://www.screamingwithbrevity.com
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