The sun tried to kiss me
today. He didn't succeed.
My head drooped, eyes searching
the earth for smiles lost.
Bruised clouds cling to the
space for rent beneath my lashes.
The previous tenant evicted for
punching holes into frail walls.
My arms quiver beneath the
smoky-blue dew, unable to bear
the weight. And violet fingers
once dipped in sunshine hide
inside shrouds of black denim.
Purple silk covers the pale
of melancholy like a spider's web
adorning the gloom of withering
meadow.
The poppies down the row
have always envied me--if they
only knew. There were many times
I observed their spicy demeanor,
baring red amidst the bite of
their black eyes.
When the moon arrives I will
sleep. Comforted by the light
he shines in my dreams. Dusting
away the blue that sorrow carries.
*Published in La Fenetre, Spring '07
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