the stars in the sky act up, then settle

she stares at a midnight page
frankness, beginning and end
the cure, a changing heart

i am not art
but I know her

resting on park bench
she contemplates lateral thinking
how they had smirked
at her “what ifs”

she tries to wrap her mind around it
the idea that ink found new home in nice-looking flowery jacket
with half-crazed sunny-faced owner

thoughts dismissed
time to write new page

by mary ann blinkhorn

you run perpetually from an oscillating eyeball

the echo of you
whilst my words heightened
meeting tomorrow’s deadline

you sit smugly
smashing a mean upper breeze
grimacing with delight
your arm injured
your own unique set of words
falling through pavement

i review the glanced-upon tightened lines
why do i fumble
why not rise gracefully with delightful words

by mary ann blinkhorn