Okay, this technically isn’t a poem at all. But I had the most difficult time trying to choose a poem for this pocket. Though it’s the third I’m posting, it was the last picked.
I really wanted to pick a woman as my pockets seemed to be stuffed by men. But using sex as a requirement didn’t seem fair to my pockets or to the poems. My front pockets are feeling vulnerable and important. It couldn’t just be any old poem.
And these two lines from Slaughterhouse Five express a sad, yet beautiful side of my vulnerability. These lines are the way in which I protect myself from you.
Everything was Beautiful
And Nothing Hurt