| Those City Blues By Christina M. Rau |
for which
blue is the rake
blue is the pile that
missed the receptacle.
Blue is the vessel, the vassal,
the king’s missile malfunctioning,
the solace of every day’s everyday.
Blue is the bruise
turning yellow black
stippled purple red in the center,
on a thigh, on a forearm.
Blue are the shoes of his
hip-shaking, suede persuasion,
paired with sequin jumpsuits,
gold-rimmed sunglasses—
are the faded denim, acid washed
dungarees in the cedar closet:
they imagine sunlit shelter,
they embody scratch on the cheek,
they appear as skin under nails.
This left-handed angel
boxed in on the calendar grid,
remains a present from Pandora.
blue is the rake
blue is the pile that
missed the receptacle.
Blue is the vessel, the vassal,
the king’s missile malfunctioning,
the solace of every day’s everyday.
Blue is the bruise
turning yellow black
stippled purple red in the center,
on a thigh, on a forearm.
Blue are the shoes of his
hip-shaking, suede persuasion,
paired with sequin jumpsuits,
gold-rimmed sunglasses—
are the faded denim, acid washed
dungarees in the cedar closet:
they imagine sunlit shelter,
they embody scratch on the cheek,
they appear as skin under nails.
This left-handed angel
boxed in on the calendar grid,
remains a present from Pandora.
| Contributor's Bio |
Christina M. Rau is the founder of Poets In Nassau, a reading circuit in New York. She has been published
in magazines like Jerseyworks and Chronogram. She teaches English at Nassau Community College.
in magazines like Jerseyworks and Chronogram. She teaches English at Nassau Community College.
Photo By Martin Rollins
| The Honey Land Review Fall 2008 Volume 1, Issue 1 |
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All content contained within this site is protected by copyright laws.
Unauthorized use of graphics or literary material is strictly prohibited.