If truth be told
(and it seems I may as well)
we did see the ships come in
that night, but we hid behind rocks
and chewed our hair, the hems of our
nightgowns, and wished to never be
For days and nights after, we hid
in our houses — I hid in my bread,
as if the flour had closed my eyes
and ears — not answering their
entreaties, becoming more and more
brazen in our ignoring. Some of us
never did change out of our nightgowns.
We chew on them still, the salted hems,
while we go about our various occupations
and the small sails hit the horizon.
2 thoughts on “I Hid in My Bread: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 8”
I love seeing little glimpses of possible series shaping up among these poems. So good!
Too well-bread to take advantage of ships coming in?:)