deepundergroundpoetry.com
bolt from the blue
following rolling days of arid sun,
the earth undoes the clothespins
from the line to appraise the leaves,
accidentally adorning the streets
with a few green socks.
the desiccation to her liking, she turns
on her heels to launder the worn again.
a cold breeze nips at the nape,
renewed color defies a muted sky,
and idle people's voices palaver
about their demotic unease
with the slick, charcoal road;
the sunlight's disappearance;
with the fickle weather;
"why'd it rain today?"
they ask no one:
i am not there.
i am drawn in,
monet-ed into the watercolor
like an animal in heat
of spring, to find my skin,
the canvas, soaked again.
the earth undoes the clothespins
from the line to appraise the leaves,
accidentally adorning the streets
with a few green socks.
the desiccation to her liking, she turns
on her heels to launder the worn again.
a cold breeze nips at the nape,
renewed color defies a muted sky,
and idle people's voices palaver
about their demotic unease
with the slick, charcoal road;
the sunlight's disappearance;
with the fickle weather;
"why'd it rain today?"
they ask no one:
i am not there.
i am drawn in,
monet-ed into the watercolor
like an animal in heat
of spring, to find my skin,
the canvas, soaked again.
Published 1st May 2018
| Edited 2nd May 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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2nd May 2018 4:33am
2nd May 2018 4:37am
