Your blue tamborine

by August 11, 2021 0 comments

With a mutual penchant for
old timey markets, film noir,
and posthumous tributes to very
dead poets, we’d connected.

Imbibing on moonshine, divinity and
your blue tambourine, we made art in
an all night rococo, rounding the clock.

Then we simultaneously parted, for
reasons, unknown.

The canvas, part empty, mid a quandary
of questioning, brushstrokes and sudden

Our poems on the nightstand, glimpse
an etch-a-sketch theater, of our “once
was the time.”

editors note:

When once is not upon but was, remember… – mh clay

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