Me at 18 by Enoch Thompson


At first the hard tile floor beneath the sink
was relief from mounds of powder and frost
feet and feet deep

The silver pipes above my head
felt like distant blankets, not soft, or even felt by me
but as a sense of found security

Whose thin crust shattered in the night
when fathers, sons, or truck drivers
stopped to piss and be my guest


To see more poetry by Enoch, go here and here.

2 thoughts on “Me at 18 by Enoch Thompson”

  1. :( So sad, yet so beautiful. I love how you say so much, and give us such a detailed scene without saying too much. Leave our minds to fill the spaces. This is truly lovely Enoch.

  2. I love the optimism in this poem. It shows the resilience of human beings, and also that moments of emptiness and despair can, through poetry, become beautiful and profound. I look forward to more from Enoch Thompson.

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