low

vertical, this vertigo pulling at lips dusky corners, beseeching. hand-me-down run-around doe eyes, darkness. timber, pine cinders wind the clock upon mantle counting time since before war or two for me, you. This diffidence is feral, infantile. Claim the field reddening grasses tattered flags, satin. linen you lie in hyperbole distance color of indigo weeping softly, so soft, as to capture whisper fine mesh chinois filter sound to only meaning. sagging braggadocio quiet politicos sign double entendre. Where now will your breath go? keep it slow. ever, ever so very low.   image courtesy of Pinterest         Continue reading low