Sunday, November 10, 2013

Floating (Poem 222)

Crows like bickering 
   demons foraging 
     in the rustling cornfield    
cicadas endlessly 
     whirring whirring 
   in the cedars   the whole 
world bleached 
white and gold and dry under 
   a dazzling haze of moisture 
      and dust and pale blue sky 
and    me    
alone    floating 
   on my back 
in the neighbor's 
     above-ground pool     
seduced by the chilling
illusion    that I am the last 
human-being    on earth 
in the oppressive   hush
   of a workday afternoon 
     in the middle of the week

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

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