Aside: another poem option from June! I wanted to share this one too.
More of my poetry and other writing is coming soon!
Thanks for reading.
Chewing on the Cob
paint-stained phone cases
and ridges from those hair ties
I always wear and am forever losing–
just like my pencil, my eraser,
my self-hatred.
>
lullaby-music takes me to dried up
cornfields and lonely dust plains
where hope glows bright
in the night sky. except we’re all the way
>
down here, listening to the wind cry
and swallowing back the rust
in our well-water, wondering if this
life is a blue smoky streak
on the infinite horizon, twisted
>
and curled with an orange ribbon–
who ever thought the river
would run out, flushed
by something like suffering?
>
except grace is far
more lofty a virtue
than anything I’ve managed.
let me just be grateful
and leave it at that.
V. H. King's Ink 
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