Good morning, darling
I hope you are well.
Take a breath,
inhale the ink-dredging sunrise
that creeps over the hilltops
and chases the frost back to the lake.
Let the children dance,
softly, raindrops on your irises,
as sparrows laugh at their stumbling
and their shadows catch them when they fall.
Feel the sand disintegrate between your toes
as the cats claim your vision with their backs,
and the flowers open like
curious clamshells.
Yes darling,
it is a lovely painting, isn’t it?
“Look!
How blue the sky this morning!”
It mirrors your eyes ...
“How wonderful to be an albatross!
a wingspan to touch horizons
and a bed in the clouds,
why, I could almost kiss the moon as I slept!”
Beautiful indeed darling,
but now, we must eat.
Let your dreams be served
upon a plate of gorgeous cyan,
with but the tiniest sprinkling of stars.
Don’t touch the remote darling!
Click.
Close your eyes, cover your ears.
Keep the vicious locusts from perforating the bubble
Flickering pixels.
Run baby, run.
You can’t escape them.
Ice sculptures,
cold eyes fixed upon yours,
as they scream sirens
at chicken wire.
Travesty! Morality!
Cataclysm!
gunshots.
The birds scream back at the journalist’s,
All they want is their skies.
just their skies; just their wings.
Turn it off darling, just switch it off.
your bubble is broken,
your skin is broken
your heart is broken,
Run.
Run outside into the sunlight
and let doors slam on your footprints.
sparks.
The children don’t turn their heads.
and the sparrows miss no notes,
as through the air soar sunbeams
that carries music from their throats.
The flowers taste the melody
and the grass bathes in the light
your sepia evaporates
as the day approaches night.
Pinch yourself darling.
See! It’s all still there!
That beautiful smile hasn’t gone anywhere.
And neither have I.
The curtain draws until the encore.
Goodnight darling,
Flick your cigarette at the horizon
and fall asleep in the flames.
