I pushed the roses through my eyes
to see fluorescent beauty die
on the broken wings of sunshine wasps.
I wonder oft why they sliced my brain,
why they sliced her ring,
and why the bluebird sings
of devils dancing sweetly
on the poor, dead morning dove.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
I pushed the roses through my eyes
to see fluorescent beauty die
on the broken wings of sunshine wasps.
I wonder oft why they sliced my brain,
why they sliced her ring,
and why the bluebird sings
of devils dancing sweetly
on the poor, dead morning dove.
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