An upended carafe of courage and a view from the floor.
I counted each drip, caught the last with my eyes closed.
You can dance between rain spots.
You can hide amid the rushes.
You can laugh at the riches.
And spilled milk is neither spoiled nor spent.
One thought on “askew”
you are one summer too many far away but for all the miles I will always treat you indulgently. Selfish and indiscreet to the end I will treasure your fatal poisons. God bless you dark poet. You are worth knowing.