MOST DAYS

I come home
on fire,

my hair burning,
my clothes sizzling,
the room filling
with smoke

as I watch
the flesh
melt
from my hands

revealing
the dull,
gray bone
underneath.

Posted on October 20, 2012, in Matt Galletta, POETRY and tagged MOST DAYS, Poems, poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

misfits' miscellany | October 20, 2012 at 11:44 pm

This is the last of Matt’s first batch of poems. I hope he submits some more. I like his uncluttered style and succinct ideas, they say so much precisely and quickly.

Read his other poems by clicking the link:
https://misfitsmiscellany.wordpress.com/category/matt-galletta/

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bzniditch | October 21, 2012 at 1:19 am

Matt brings it home with a clarity of language and nails it in his body of work.

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m lewis redford | October 21, 2012 at 9:00 am

by the time I get to the bone it’s time to wake up and get ready for work …

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Allie Marini Batts | October 23, 2012 at 4:12 am

The ability to capture the hell that is everyday living and pin it to the page using only 31 words is proof that there’s divinity counterbalancing it somewhere.

Side note: I wish I didn’t read this, shake my head, and say, “Exactly,” knowing all-too-well how accurate those precisely chosen 31 words are.

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