S. Reeson

Fly

fish early

I was taught
gut and clean often
never go hungry

standing in the darkening river

waste deep
piling up inside
nothing edible survives

lying so I’d be accepted

left me instead high and dry
slowly decomposing
throwing back each compromise

until truth was caught as a requirement

I was honest won’t assume
finally have been exhumed
never worked well in the water so

tonight they fly

Surface Tension

Then, he said, you're still fat
but continued not to see
indelible evidence of previous
incumbency, two lives

both, who thrived inside me.
Instead of celebrating
skin that sags, hangover
from occupancy, misshapen

gaze averts, away from imperfection
looking only to the pieces
curvature that he considers
satisfactory. I have regrets:

within a heart, that constancy
has always held and loved
regardless of their shapes,
steadfastly, absolutely. It seems

a better bet again, not to push,
acknowledge any part, damaged
product the Normal people
see, yet inside me, in time became

a bigger beauty than this
skinny girl possessed before;
their unrealistic markers
their perception to the fore

imprinting there, controversy upon a
fragile sanity, that won't take any more.
Let it be the world's myopic
loss, no longer my complexion,

as, she replied, but now I'm whole...
and continued then to grieve
at an indelible evidence of ignorance
another man's unable to conceive.

Problematic (Possibly Numerical) Rhyme Scheme

until the moment                                                   strategy is overthrown
so much gets done when no-one else there to depend upon

my scheme can instantly adapt yet not expect to change
accommodating that which others make so clear
their better rhythm for this poor mind to hear
share melody’s not normal in this song

I am comfortable alone

too, a problematic one no need four more of them
therefore less work done in difference three
you don't see the meanings as I want them two be

I’ll continue to be lonely as you lot stand a tone

no care when thrall is broken validation
others token you insert the punctuation
knows solitude as construct of existence gone
instantly adapts but not expected to condone

strategy is overthrown the moment's song
when no-one else there to depend upon so much gets done

Flights, Issue Twelve, April 2024