The Swish and Stammer and Smudge of Love

Oh, but she’s a storm.

The sky’s got a new slant, curl
of cloud and scattered song.

The syllables of her name are
fleeting, sleeting, bleeding ink

and drinking in the stone
-washed bruises of another dawn.


Prompted by the April PAD Challenge, day 3



This entry was posted in poetic asides poems and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Use your words.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.