words

she fills the glass halfway
and laughs at the metaphor,
surrenders to the sensation
and closes a weary eye.

it is this way everytime–
she fills the glass over,
pulls wings from the flies
caught in the tsunami–
the girl’s got grip.

she drains the glass empty
and watches the last drop
suffocate before her eye.
she pulls the sleeve of wisdom
and keeps the truth
buried safely in the sand.

she walks with sages,
skirts the edge of the way,
and slides along the magnet.

she laughs at the metaphor
every single time–
the girl’s got it down,
this pattern of method science–
she laughs at the hilarity
of it all.

-S.C. Martinez