A telescope hangs lonely
beneath
a fraudulent window,
painted on &
framed by bare walls.
Across the room,
shattered glass mirrors
a paned reflection of
books. They
lend punctuation
to my subtropical thoughts,
add oxygen to this cell.
In my mind
the skies flash orange &
a promise of rain blows
in through the window.
In my mind
you walk
through walls.
[+]
Florida Rain
Yesterday was a grey day
full of stacked boxes and
unopened mail
Yesterday was a sticky day
of sugar-coated sky, frothy swollen oceans,
waxy lawns
Yesterday went
dripping through our fingers
like an unused conscience
before we had a chance
to claim it
Yesterday was a grey, melty day
sticky with purple jelly
and lacking punctuation
[+]
Sandra Ketcham currently lives in Orlando where she works as a full-time freelance writer and editor. Her poetry is recently published or forthcoming in Bicycle Review, Rusty Truck, Calliope Nerve, Psychic Meatloaf, Counterexample Poetics, and many others.
