Looming saucers of dark blue hue
under echos of orange breath the pillars rise
Float on. Wet us with your voice
The drumming of tin, the slap of breaking the surface
gone to join, to many, now one.
Blot the sky and bicker to the sun: cold, hot, forget it, gone
Wrestle away with thoughts alone,
what to give, what to take, leave none unturned.
Slenderly slipping from your bottom
make due with the air that's out.
Alone for a moment, gone and forgotten.
Until swept into the body again forcefully softened.
Last updated: 2014-06-17comments powered by Disqus