Blue Days

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She collects bottles
stacks them on the windowsill
like blue sentries overseeing
barren paddocks
where Friesians once grazed.
Stubs the roll-your-own
in the ashtray between ochrous
fingers as she talks to them,
the blue shaped ornaments,
tells them her needs
and secrets, waits
for answers.
And then
designs her own
answers
when waiting
turns onerous.

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5 Comments
tazz317tazz317over 11 years ago
IF ANSWERS OF OTHERS

will not suffice, TK U MLJ LV NV

LeBrozLeBrozabout 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,500 poems.

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Bill DadaBill Dadaabout 18 years ago
~

This one I love. One incredible image after another. Grouping words in a way that made the images dance on the page.

My Erotic TrailMy Erotic Trailabout 18 years ago
mentioned

in the new poems review thread...

LeBrozLeBrozabout 18 years ago
~~

Now I understand ~

That strange lady down the road

Really is not delirious;

Just giving voice to a silent universe.

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