-

an icicle broke off from
the gutter of my porch,

stabbing my hydrangea
bush right in the heart.

i could reprimand the
shattered remains of an
icy spear,

and then bandage the
wound with a layer
of snow–

yet it occurs to me to maybe
quarter an apple with a
Swiss Army knife,

this pooling of thoughts like
pale blood seeping out of a
painfully frozen morning—

turning me white like
heavy frost over
so many early roses...


s jones
2021


.

For the first time in my
life, I saw colors- not like
normal people see colors; my recent woman
sees colors all the time.
This morning, there was
purple splashed all over my room.
Once, in her sleep, she said
the word 'purple.'
I asked her what it meant,
she said, 'Knowledge of the future.'
I know she will try and ***** this
sickness out of me; God Bless her.
What do I know about the future?
I know it looks bleak, and the
doves are crying.

I was feeling
down
depressed
and dark.
I put
some
rocks in my
cup
to uplift my
spirits,
to climb
out of the hole.

I want to
run on
the clouds
and
touch the sun;
go 180 around
the third turn.
Feel nothing but
the wind;
go out like
Earnhardt Sr.
in
a blaze of
glory.
Last lap
last run.