Saturday, 3 December 2016

upcycled blue

Decisively you stood up for me. The sun was nowhere to be seen, bright was the sky had been vacated, so clear you could see the stars embedded in blue. Decisive it was you. The blue was of the freshest upcycled hard knock gel you coulda thought it was original and might even say american, which was upcycled, too, and swell. I was a dangling participle, left hanging like an pomegranate swollen on the bush late in summer. The bush wanted rid of me but I would not fall, and they wanted to pick me off anyway. Decisively you stopped them when they tried to pick me off. I couldn't even see them as you know. We want some seeds, they said, and all they were was mouths watering. You surged with a dry wry unflinching certainty: "and what of the rest of her, discard her, would you?"  They quivered and wavered and blinked their mouths. Innocently suggesting only this little part of me was useful. It was then you hedged them out of the yard with the clippers. My seeds were glowing inside me like jelly, like wax, like embers, like fireflies, like rain at night in the light. The sun came out of the blue and reappeared in the sky. It was so nice and warm, I could modify you for days and days. And days and days and days. Modifying you. Days and days and days and days and days.