This is a test
& no, not some clickbait internet quiz,
like “Am I Gay?” or “Which Bread Are You
Based On Your Zodiac Sign?”
which, for the record, I just
completely made up, though I’m positive
it also exists—no.
Here
This is a text
to see how naturally the words flow,
if they’re lapping at my heels
or dragging me through the riptide.
Both, somehow, coexist.
The letters gently wash up on the shore
of my conscious thoughts, forming words that flow into
the lines, crashing when they reach their invisible crest.
Though unseen, I can still predict the point at which they’ll curl
the teasing waves teetering and teetering until they
tumble over all at once. Words become poems.
Water becomes waves, riptides, suds in the sand
& bubbles in the surf the seagulls race to pop,
hoping to find a morsel of something delicious.
Here
This I still a test,
& I think it’s safe to say
all is clear, all systems are go.
Surf’s up. Time to ride some waves.
Kasey Roper 