Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Winded on a Trampoline

I clutch at clouds,
burn my brow on sunbeams,
lick blue moons with a rainbow-scythe.
But as day caves away
a wind whips through my stomach
and I’m dumped in its wake.

Magpies brush low over cut grass.

Thrumming cicadas numb the wet sandstone.

A pair of sneakers over powerlines.

Purple and gold in the clouds above.

Some stars beginning to stir.

(published in Visible Ink, 2011)