The Poet Community

Atlas | A Poem by JD DeHart

The world does not fit on the back
of her neck, but she tried to hold me up
never allowing me to see a moment’s
weakness, always a mask of peace.
When everyone else said I was not good,
a worm boy with large glasses, slithering
from under a rock somewhere, the nothing kid
that grew up on top of a mountain,
she said words like could and enough.

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