ink has dried up
i turn the well upside down
tap the little glass jar
on the desk
nope no ink
the shades of black
and gray where the ink
has dried like edges of mountain
skyscape in black and white
a study
a work of unintended
art the glass slips from my fingers
clatters to the floor
too sturdy to break
rolling rolling
coming to a stop in the dust
No comments:
Post a Comment