My skin is blue here – Right now at Day’s
just opened mouth – Teeth-gleaming-white-new
daylight
I hear the birds far off first
a whistle with an eyelash width
I do not go to the window
Clouds glide the new sky – I miss them
Spring rabbit along the wired fence line
There just there soft hide rising with its small breath – Miss
The white utility van turn its engine, roll down the hill
Grass bent dewed and tender.
Click here to read Richard Carey on the origin of the poem.
Image by Petra Reid on Pexels.com, licensed under CC 2.0.
Richard Carey is a queer writer hailing from the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia. He currently resides in Provincetown, Massachusetts.
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