By Doodleslice 2014-08-26
Ground-up snow packed in an old tin coffee cup
Baked enamel finish
Pale chipped yellow
Leaching metallic poisons that cling to the roof of my mouth
Tasting of hiding places and bitter regret
Clods of pillow-soft centuries cry for seeds
Cry for worms
Cry for nitrogen
But not for me
Not until the scattering is complete
Not until they burn this peacock from my cup
I’ll bend nails in sideshows
And search for suburbs
Ten for a dollar
Ten for a nickel
Ten for a penny
Ten for a match
Erosion is our softest dream
I was a road
I cracked and crumbled
I was speared by savage grasses
And overrun by bracken
Devoured by rest
A trace
And soon
Not even
But ground
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Instagram – May 30, 2017 at 08:16AM
While eating pears
Isn’t wise or clever.
To take mid-flight
One juicy bite…
I’d advise it never.
To be done in
With sticky chin
Before you top the top
Takes one stumble
A mere fumble
And down the drop you’d drop
End over end
You’d crash and bend
Landing on the landing
So please beware
And eat your pear
Standing where you’re standing. ~~~
By Doodleslice .
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