This week’s featured poem is an excerpt from Scott Felix’s Mediocre Sunflower.
If you submit to your fingers running across the keys, where do they go?
I’ve learned to embrace wishes, and prayers, and miracles no matter the size.
The Spring conducts its intimate ritual, almost unnoticed by man.
Regrets drown themselves in moments.
A warm kiss caresses my lips.
I am the rose that grew from concrete wilting after being stepped on by lovers who promsied to be gentle.