Michael Sweeney

W O R D S • I D E A S : M I C H A E L S W E E N E Y

Slide

Sinking back through my eyes, I look out. As my fingers slip, I never fall (fast). Blink, and it’s time to meet my shoulders. They’re neighborly, whatever that means. So I wave. As I oscillate along with the current tide my arms stay by my side. I slide down by and am choked up by my inside. I loosen this noose and have to choose between two thighs. When I am lost I am beside myself To be my mind

Michael Sweeney

I write poems that are minimal and blunt, that reflect modern times. I try to leave a little to interpretation.