Under a blue blanket
I taste a breath
like sweet mandolins
rolling over
like some great green wave
out on the grounds
they plucked
plebby-skinned mandarins
untouched by noon,
stepping gingerly
over the soft roots in the grove
with garbled syntax
worried about a tax on sin
plucking all the grays
from their skulls
untouched by night
plonked in a bed
never dreaming
but sometimes
wishing to be a bed,
or a wardrobe
or an old chandelier
or dead.
Sep 26, 2024
Sep 26, 2024 at 4:29 PM UTC
Under a blue blanket
I taste a breath
like sweet mandolins
rolling over
like some great green wave
out on the grounds
they plucked
plebby-skinned mandarins
untouched by noon,
stepping gingerly
over the soft roots in the grove
with garbled syntax
worried about a tax on sin
plucking all the grays
from their skulls
untouched by night
plonked in a bed
never dreaming
but sometimes
wishing to be a bed,
or a wardrobe
or an old chandelier
or dead.
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