The day had formed a defensive fist-
Yellow-gray glow
rain and white knuckles
tin-shine
sprinting wetness
flash and frost
we’re fumbling around the floor
looking for our thoughts. We’ve
cut our fingers on what is absolutely
tame.
our thoughts escape in the red flood
rhyming from our fingers
water sweep
cold humid flame
of Michigan Winter
dying
on the
wet rot
of these organs
1 comment:
Greetings and salutations from the Greetings and Salutations committee! Just making sure we're doing our job!
Cordially,
Us
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