i'm sitting on a felled tree
the bark is missing or what's left
is like old scabs still attached
there are tiny squiggly lines
carved on the bare parts
little stars & dried up rivers
these etchings must be driveways
these small holes, insect homes
do they hold water?
i see outlines for the broken
letter unfinished
keyholes
baby windows
a ribbon ere red
is now a saddened pink
light and heat and rain
made you this colour; so weak
little tie what meaning do you hold now?
who sees you there, anyway
brushing the greyed leaves of ground?
the sky after noon is expectedly blue
cornflower variety
bringer of warmth that endears my
bare arms and slowly builds in pavement
my naked feet feel this
my eyes go down only to avoid large rocks
& other offensive protrusions
dandelion
you're accurately named
a yellow mane
glue inside, white water life
king of the lawn
risilient.
a constant and
repetitive accent
the world is my porpoise
oysters are for small talk
i prefer more mundane comparisons
