Skewing Toward the Sky

This poem is a fair
in a bright tower,
sticky with cotton candy
clouds and crowds
of dark (k)nights in
dashing star-spilled skin.

She’s in it for the pop
-corn, you know, the equality
that only comes from tumbled
things and strings and strands
of crunch. She’s as neutral

(balmy, sunny, pleasant un
as it gets, until she lets
that tangerine fireball get under
her skin. She’ll win

you a prize, if you stay long
enough. Hang tough as she
hollers blue expletives out
the window, makes a scene this poem
………of storm.

Her new normal is
a gable
(a gamble,
a tablescrap-scramble)
above the rest. A test of whim
and will. A spill of sigh and song.

Can you see her flaxen light?
She’s a sprite, a ghost. A
mad and moonly boast of
midnight rain.

If you’ve gotten quite
and you still can’t tell,



Written for Poetic Asides



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3 Responses to Skewing Toward the Sky

  1. always enjoy the way you play with words

  2. qbit says:

    Love this – “the equality that only comes from tumbled things”

  3. Wow! This is words played to the max! Love it, De!

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