a
barre of
long
afternoon shadows
where
the desert begins
sheep’s
skulls reflections and
sunlight
sheers off what
seem
puddles of coffee
we
were told he killed his victims
with
a purple sweet potato and then
ate
the murder weapon
now
we wait for the light plane
out
of here
where
the sky is as tall as the tales
and
the folks stand tall as an aurora
Great poem...intriguing I wonder how does one kill someone with a sweet potato. Enjoyed this, thank you.x
ReplyDeleteThere are some big sweet potatoes! Love this
ReplyDeleteThanks Janette, Lizz — it was 'inspired' by a big purple sweet potato that I made into soup yesterday!
ReplyDelete