of living, gold, poodles

..

our standards
are sliding, curly-cued
up and weighed
down by frown, crown,
the drowning of days.

let’s rephrase:

wrap me up in an algorithm
(business card sized),
stuff our issues
in an envelope formed
from sea. curve me into the
precious metal of your skin,
and begin to say something.

the notation of the stars
has spoken, broken open
more than the sky’s best
applause. let’s pause
and see
what
spills.

.

.
Prompted by Poetic Asides

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2 Responses to of living, gold, poodles

  1. Fun poem. Love the last stanza especially.

  2. S says:

    “in an envelope formed (for me, De) from sea”

    This is so clever!!! You’re asking the ocean to send you a Christmas present! That makes “our issues” a gift instead of a curse, something to hide. You know what? Let’s just be ourselves. All our selves. It’s true, and it’s good … even if it’s bad. Know what I mean? We’re just more help to each other, and ourselves, when we’re honest, real, and 2 legit 2 quit.

    poodles … pooed leis 🙂

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