"The laundry on the line: your little white flags."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Self-Portrait With Loaded Weapon
I sat in the chair. The chair
Sank in the soft sod.
Behind me stars sank or slid off
The edge of blue. Down the hill
Rabbits pranced with little machete dreams.
An angry finch sang a dirge
Or led a flock of finches in a dirge.
The laundry on the line: your little white flags.
I opened a hole in my throat. A song
Came forth. Nonplussed you sat there
In your inky rags. You sipped
Your coffee. Turn the page.
_______________________________________________________________