a backdrop of blue
with tiny dots for stars

and it swooshes away

from a saucer shaped
like a paper plate

this rocket ship
or clear

plastic pen
a pin-up girl inside

it's confusion

it's wonder

it's pulpy desire

Whit Howland © 2020

Down I go into the gray and brown.
I hit the sides, like being in a cradle that is
rocked too fast.  It's an abrupt catastrophe.
I didn't see this one coming; but I felt it, like
the slight rumble of an earthquake, or like the
false dawn, before the real light yawns, and
opens the sickly day.
It's just another ending, dapple and down.

Her desire was love
but she found a land of ice.
In her duty to melt it
she ended up frozen alive.

Deliciously loving you,
yet, I'm the
one that got ate up
and spit out.
So I lie on
an empty beach
like a broken sea shell,
while the lonely rain
pounds the sand.