Finale by Rod C. Stryker

 

It’s a punch line
held by the dusk
 
if anxiety hadn’t
splashed its nervous
 
laughter all over
the gashed sky
 
who is luminous, furious
at the sun’s disregard
 
for order or gravity
while the sea gets
 
married to bed sheets
in steamy hours
 
way past reasonable,
and fingers
 
run under chins and smiles
soaked in memory,
 
simmered in apprehension
and torrents of pure blue.

 
by
Rod C. Stryker
 

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Comments
  1. paulrostov1 says:

    So much free space between the lines- is it your special idea?

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