the sky
bleached
purple, lavender
Midwest,
the lightest
like lilacs
with specks of
violet
dawn, dusk
like bellflowers,
wild orchids
at daylight,
tranquil,
sundown
hypnotic
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Beside the Unfinished Glass By Paul Moore
The half-empty glass, red stain clinging, a smear of laughter on the rim. And beside it, your ring. Gold, still warm, maybe, from your finge...
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lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba... -
Once he spoke the indirect speech of men, as if making bar bets after third drinks that become sincere, become angry, mean. Just his half jo... -
Diamond hair Bathe in bourbon and butter You are my Sunday prayer You are everything You are all You are life Rita S. Spalding has had poem...
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