Monday, March 17, 2014

Private Club (Poem 350)

Triumphantly, the darkness 
burns away what sparse
blue coastal light remains 
at ten o'clock.
Deep promises are deftly 
uncorked; dreamy trumpet, 
faintly sharp, listens
to itself.
Thigh-to-thigh, at the bar, 
we imagine their small 
smiles of surprise at 
being admitted into 
our private club.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six