Friday, June 13, 2008

Loss of Color

In my dream the rosebush had climbed into the oak
and all the blossoms were standing on the limbs shouting
but they were not blossoms, they were the beating hearts of children
giant plastic strawberries
a constellation made up of a thousand stars as red as Antares
uncut garnets the size of your fist
they were snappers standing on their tails and gesticulating
and one by one they fell from the tree for it was now winter
and bare boughs
framed gray sky.

--for Writer's Island

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

5 comments:

Steve said...

I enjoyed this piece.

Greyscale Territory said...

What an amazing fantasy! I read it several times to let it flow over me. Magical!

Dale said...

woohoo!!! great poem.

keith hillman said...

I too read it a couple of times, and I'm glad I did - I got so much more from readng the second time

jadey said...

Very nicely done I love how vibrant this dream was and then how it turned to grey very cool.