I am small in my galoshes
the sun reflects into rivers
of light, we are adventurers
my fried and I, lost boys hidden
under our lace and braids, together under
one second star to the right umbrella
the hale gray sky overturns in our eyes
We gather moss under our nails, dark hairs
tangle with violet march thistles
birds are dark spear heads thrown
from the earth. The world is raw, flawless
against our chapped lips splitting
into grins. We smear the red away like war
paint across rocks and bark, our arms
and cheeks. We are fierce and do not know
what it means yet, to give our blood
so freely. The rivers of light fade
into the evening. Shadows slide
from our backs and grow in silence.
The blood dries and flakes away
into nothing.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
I am small in my galoshes
the sun reflects into rivers
of light, we are adventurers
my fried and I, lost boys hidden
under our lace and braids, together under
one second star to the right umbrella
the hale gray sky overturns in our eyes
We gather moss under our nails, dark hairs
tangle with violet march thistles
birds are dark spear heads thrown
from the earth. The world is raw, flawless
against our chapped lips splitting
into grins. We smear the red away like war
paint across rocks and bark, our arms
and cheeks. We are fierce and do not know
what it means yet, to give our blood
so freely. The rivers of light fade
into the evening. Shadows slide
from our backs and grow in silence.
The blood dries and flakes away
into nothing.
