indigo
smeared between the palms
of gentle bones
and ink-black butterfly wings
between waves
and red boats
and every other thing that floats
indigo
smearing the snow
where they found yeti
in tibet
and they’re not free
yet
it takes skill to see
just one drop in the changelessly
changeable sea
and murder mercifully
and smile at me
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3 comments:
i am a fan of your poetry. every time.
i'll try and do some more smiling then.
it's cute that we just did a round-robin of inspiration.
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