Skip to content

Circus

1.

I cut my thumb
open
on a knife

and it believed
it was
sleeping –

the skin
puckered
like the mouth

of a fish.

The blood
was like a horse

narrowing herself
through a fence,

through a canal
into another city.

2.

Tomorrow, she said,
tomorrow –

pointing
at a pair of air balloons

that hung low
above the earth.

It was raining.

I waited for their colors
to bleed

into the ground,
to turn the apples

from the Tree to
multicolored
wisps.

Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

Be First to Comment

Leave a Reply