april

outside, gray skies
gray streets
gray gradient dopplers of swooshing cars
inside same gray
excesses the night before
leaving ashes where motivation should lie
hate to leave on a gray wave
or gray way
how does one melt these pewter talismans down
their leaden enchantments
using a glowing splinter
taken from the paw
of a creature made of fire
which owes me a debt
as best I can remember


… a gray wave and gray day probably spawned from a haunting poem
I learned in elementary school, though I don’t know from where. It went like this:

A green little chemist
On a green little day
Mixed some green little chemicals
In a green little way.
The green little grasses
Now tenderly wave
O’er the green little chemist’s
Green little grave.

Comment (email, etc. optional)

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.