Wednesday, July 9, 2014

on the last day of my life I contemplate flying, but I don't

I paint myself with watercolor, indigo blue
frolic in the loud, crowded streets
stop traffic to compliment strangers
on their clothes, shoes, the shape of their smiles

I gallop in the wind towards my house,
my neighbors stifle their laughter at the sight
of my dry painted body

skip stones off the dock with my little brother
his stone skips two more times than mine

savor the sound of my mother's soft voice billlowing
the words, Dinner's Ready
As she serves it, I pray for the solace
of the souls sitting around me

No comments:

Post a Comment