Wednesday, April 13, 2016

In Pursuit of Wallflowers (A metaphor)




I watch your arms
the veins rise quickly
trails of fierce blue green
the blood pumps your muscles
up
hands flexing
bone to bone
blood to marrow
to create, to form
a slight wet shimmer
on the surface

A pale rose
Then bright crimson

The tension is palatable
Ashes to dust


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2 comments:

  1. Karen ErdmannApril 13, 2016 at 12:25 PM

    Michelle, it is a great joy to read your poetry again.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Michelle SApril 13, 2016 at 12:44 PM

      Thanks Karen. It's a great pleasure to be sharing again. :)

      Delete

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