Technically, this isn’t magnetic poetry, it’s cut-up poetry.
I came to this piece by way of cutting text out of a magazine and piecing it together (and then adding some of my own conjunctions and whatnot). But magnetic poetry is the same process. So I’ll file this under Magnetic Poetry Monday and call it happy.
Remember when this was all we needed?
Sweet rolls, vodka and
the sun coming to an end.
Now, where do I begin?
Waking up on the other side of that revolution
where pain came too close to joy
and a woman could be damned by sunbeams
if she forgot that “good enough” is more than skin deep.
(It’s all in the hips and the exhale of breaths
when you’ve forgotten how to be happy.)
And the peak experience is discovering
the hidden brilliance
in satisfying yourself.