Twenty Tiny Colonies
Caked in
flour; her hands
and hair bagged
for questioning.
Twenty
tiny
colonies of
jam fall down her
apron like plinko
chips down
a polish coat rack.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight,
dressed in Morocco
and Grace;
hair, drawn like
a longbow, like
a half-forgotten dream.
this author, without doubt, is an enlightened individual whose work is of incredible value to this planet. kudos to any publisher who seizes the opportunity to display the poetry of this genius.