Walloped

An old demon punched me
in the face as I slept -
punched me hard.

Delicate wounds ripped open

with recollection.
Blood rushed, swelling scars,
morphing my mug
to a puffer fish pout.

In the mirror,

I find myself transformed
back some twenty-seven years -
a teenager tenderly touching
ghostly stitches.


Comments

Andrea Dawn said…
Reminds me of a dream I had last night . . . some old wounds from soured friendships that have lost a lot of their sting but still left me feeling unsettled.

Your writing is packed with emotion and always touched me deeply.
Lettie said…
Thank you Andrea... I am grateful and humbled that you appreciate my poetry in much the same way I appreciate your photos. I only wish the inspiration for this one came from a dream -- unfortunately, it came from a cold settling into the scars on my face. It was not very pretty... ;) Thank you always for your visits and support.
Eva Trillian said…
September is coming to an end. And it is with relief I wave good bye to it and look forward to a cozy autumn:
Your lovely comment lies in my inbox still and I read it when I need cheering up :)The thought of living in someones future makes it really worth while to make the best of it! :)
Your poetry touches my soul. Your words above I read with recognition ...

Sending you warm and friendly greetings!
Lettie said…
Thank you Eva. After being away from this blog for so long, I was warmed to see your comment. And... knowing that someone lives in my future makes me look forward to it all the more. ;) Time, like life, is such a strange and wonderful thing.

All my love and gratitude...