Scribbles from the sky
Racing the Sunset to St. LouisThe sun is being swallowed up by the edge of the earth.
It is reaching out with all its best colors
in an effort to keep its grip on this day.
Muted purples,
smudgy blues
and clouds outlined sharply in pink.
Orange radiating down from the upper layer of clouds.
The earth is hungrily pulling the sun down.
As the minutes and miles pass,
the orange growls and the purple angers.
They unleash across the sky,
clawing their way to the corners.
And then...
as night swells up to engulf the last of the sun's efforts,
the oranges and purples grow softer, grayer.
Gray becomes indigo and indigo is
the perfect home for sparkling stars.
Regrets are for fools...
I wish I could hunt down Frank
(like a lion on the savanah)
and steal back from him my virginity.
I would carve it out of his thigh
(where it has inexplicably but indisputably taken residence)
with a scalpel and hold it tremulously between my fingers.
It would shimmer dazzlingly even through the gore.
I wish I could wash it gently in warm water, allowing its brilliance to overpower my shade-weakened eyes before laying it gently into a velvet-lined mahogany box.
I (a midieval princess) would fall to one knee before you, head bowed, arms raised with my offering.
You would take the box and open it with shaking hands.
It would leap into you with a flash, a breath of wind the only hint of its hasty passing.
Into you. |
posted by Bored Housewife at
9:01 AM
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