Stagger through the bramble
into he pond
dart throgh the river
then crawl up the stairs
into nothing but the above
scramble through the murkey depths
of the indian's water
plow through the mud that will lead you to
a shimmering miror
waddle through the creek
and play in the liguid
the guts of your watering can
spill into the plants
and make the plants geen
slink through the lake
I don't care
the freshness of the world
is in this color
Your striding though aqua blue
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Why did you decide to omit a title?
ReplyDeleteGolden line: the freshness of the world is in this color
I think that if you hadn't said (Indian Ocean) it would take your poem to the next level. Because when I was reading this, I was in a kind of trance, but when I got to that line, I snapped right out of it. Otherwise, it was really good!
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