what it takes
it takes time.
it takes one hundred push up a day.
it takes page after page full of words.
it takes the words from the page.
it takes patience.
it takes five three minute rounds with the heavy bag every day.
it takes restraint.
it takes my pretty face.
and then it takes me to the bank.
it takes jumping rope, long walks and holding hands.
It spills itself, right now, from my back brain to my forehead behind my eyes past my lips into my throat squeezing my spine and striking my heart.
it constricts the muscles in my arms and hands, forces my fingers to peck lettered keys made of oiled plastics that correspond to this code.
I HAVE ARRIVED.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.