The Orange Blanket

Wear a Mask or Die

Still Capture Credit: Ian “Irish” Collins 2014

The Orange Blanket

There’s woodwork in my wall stones

feeling the pulsate of my pineapple dome

I think my way back to the post shooting

ambulance comfort call

;Pulsate

ting

They pop the blanket from its safety-sealed cover

vacuum fresh, no bleeding, orange heat

;Pulsate

ting

Elsewhere now, her hair is caught in the dead smell

of her closet ghosts

;Pulsate

ting

So could it be

that my birthday note

didn’t arrive?

“I want to be your Ninja, honey”

;Pulsate

ting

With the warmth of your orange blanket

reading, hunting down the four letter spaces

in meta-culture’s six syllable tones

It’s all talk, their compelling narrative

;Pulsate

ting

Fingers of Azna, tap tap tapping heartbeats

till truth drips out, unrecognizable; two fingers tapping

;Pulsate

ting

Back then, again, her lips moving but the language

is null and devoid:

Her empty swimming pool holds a deeper treasure

skating her shallows to our grape soda backwash

;Pulsate

ting

Cameras are to follow; following you zoom

throughout the running over tunes in backrooms

exhume the swinging scenes, stillborn

Drop the blanket,

and step from our wreckage tap tap tapping

as the safety seal of yesterday is torn away

;Pulsate

ting

•K. Shawn Edgar | Invisible Delight | Bye Now | ESP Resistant

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s