“Subs” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

marines are subs
castes in the past
groups of tradesmen
sinking floors
locked behind scratched plastic
public eyes
eyes that need to feel real
not as a child walking the hallways
a school ticket
the lunch line with a meal ticket
against a hip pocket
skin is touching skin
unhidden, exposed for the realness
forsaking the comfort of a joined reality
hands that touch door knockers
guild ed, angled
but not from guilds
guide our way threw empty hallways
the last one to be picked up
we sink like marines
sees that hope light
principles, bulldogs and mastiffs
to retake the polished dollar


4 comments on ““Subs” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

  1. evea192 says:

    Wow, speechless…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s