the wistful in my bones,
the coming pixelated blue―
write mindless, solid,
insouciant, as if it were the ache
of a passing storm.
I shake my umbrella―
thank, kiss, and love unrequited,
like a dog wet from rain.
Strangely compelled to tidy affairs―
ignore the exaggerateddetails of hell.
Thanks to the talented R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem.
|image by Musin Yohan|