designed to enlighten me

Designed to Enlighten Me

Sunflowers stretched to the horizon, casting their seedy grins to the

good authority that the governor’s wife absolutely despises blue

of clashing hues and a silver-wrought sword. A lady of the Court, unrestricted

on its cinderblocks, which probably explains why the grim reaper does

say our lives are like that, blooming once, flaring up

hatred turning to fever. She try to fix her dress to show

an imposing two-storey structure with hip-gabled roof and green ceramic

strips that would, according to them, in a shitstorm, be illuminated along

chirping like they agree and inside the hotness wouldn’t leave

a jar of fruit she's left him, cherries perhaps.

Then he smeared the crab's eyes with salt and read a

sad performance of a certain masculine nonchalance,

stinking up the sheets and the curtains and the room and the wall

like sleeping animals with their heads tucked under. A file of fruit bats beats

buzzed by, almost ruffling her long gray hair, and dipped its beak

up close to the pink face of the odorless, frustrating

what she want. It easier to hate him now. It easier to

set out by first light, cross deltas, climb valleys, meander through

an acknowledgment of the precarity of the whole thing.