Night-sky blotch

Outside, the sky is silent,
a pot of freshly spilled ink
the artist flusteredly dabs at his ruined canvas,
leaving a spot of greyish-pale, the moon
 
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The Lone Cat

MA

16 years old

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  • By The Lone Cat

    exoticism

    grey eyes
    stare, openly
    at the flesh of elephant plums
    raw and hanging, dripping with a sour earthiness
    open your fists, green guava
    soon dropped upon the shore
    of a tall-tiered world, singing of poverty and praises

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