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.

Rod C. Stryker

  1. paulrostov1 says:

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

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