this here is mine.

this space.

this poem.

scrawled line by

shivering line

it belongs to me.

this sandbox

wherein i am god.

i am good.

i am holy.

safe from missile.

safe from drone.

this here is sanctuary.


my space in the attic

of a bigger god’s poem.

come the day

they come and take

my house

my home

my street

my grass

my water

my daughters

the tombstone

on my grave.

the day they come

to take it all

they will not know

but still

still like a frozen heart

this here is mine.

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

4 thoughts on “THIS HERE IS MINE.”

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