Saturday, August 2, 2025

Poem: Faraway

 

Faraway

 

happy clouds,

a white glove party

which laughs and points fingers.

 

they float over

a cherry soda sun,

sugar in their bellies.  safe.

 

just like that, they change:

behold a pale crowd,

pockets bulged with stones.

 

a swoop of nighthawk

and throats of nameless frogs

frame the stage

 

as the victim waits,

watching many a vee

of northbound geese.

 

always, she thinks,

that same letter

V  V  V …

 

flying off, 

swift with hope,

to chase some faraway home.

 





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8/2/25 ... some mods throughout the day

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