Fair words ricochet
off skeletal trees. The mango will shed
it's coat to radiate a brighter yellow sun,

and the hazy-eye sky
imitates the elegance
of London's smog head cold,

blinding the gray levitating
on streets and clogging
ordinary judgments. Un-keen

and displaced, the belly flutters
from a glance: a head full of orchids
and daily chore that brushes off

as whimsy, as does natural sorrow.

Poetry by Christin Brennan
Read 967 times
Written on 2007-10-13 at 23:21

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