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endless waves of gray roll
until they meet with the horizon,
flat sky white as a canvas mast.

a voice of silver, a tongue of blue-orange lust
that promises to devour with hot kisses
the ropes of order that keep me here

on this suburban hill- the flick of my
Bic lighter is a fricative, seductive prelude
to the crackle of the gray chaparral, aflame.
©2008-2009 ~MsStarryskye
:iconmsstarryskye:

Author's Comments

Persona poem... I am not the speaker, I promise!

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:iconb1gfan:
Wonderful I say...WONDERFUL...I can feel the flame licking at my horizon...and I say that as a kid who grew up in L.A., accustomed to sniffing out the fires - because something is always burning in L.A. =)
:iconmsstarryskye:
Wow, a wonderful in caps! That is high praise. Thank you, my friend! yep. How many fires will start this weekend, I wonder :( Sad stuff. Arsonists suck.

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April 29, 2008
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