of sun and sand

torn,

the paper

that i’ve

ceased to

write upon

 

firmly

pressingly

patiently

merely

precisely real

 

loud outburst

save it

keep the story

below the surface

 

without compromise

without exception

absorbing the sounds of

half-finished voice

 

bouquets of stems

no false faces

no road

no trees

the everlasting new

 

another round of

ready, set, go

another round

that melts right into

the beginning

of mirror’s words

another round of measure

spoken with softer lips

 

labeled storage boxes

of sun and sand

a little black dress, dry cleaned

dancing around the face of a clock

 

dry winter hands

clever eye spots a

poor man’s art

decidedly building

on the decided

 

one egg beaten

one in the pan

four in the carton kept cold

 

when all was said and done

it left you

with better tolerance

didn’t it, allen?

me too

 

by mary ann blinkhorn

walkabout – the importance of writing good premises

she walks around

regarding her premises

naked riddles

viewed by fully-clothed mindsets

seeing nothing

 

she pauses

dresses them up a bit

adds familiar hats

 

she walks around

regarding her premises

naked riddles

sporting familiar hats

viewed by fully clothed mindsets

seeing nickels and dimes, now

 

she pauses

enters her closet

returns with accessory items

applies them to premises

showing off their favorable uniqueness

 

she walks around

regarding her premises

naked riddles

sporting familiar hats

and accessory items

showing off their favorable uniqueness

viewed by fully clothed mindsets

seeing nickels and dimes

 

and a few dollar signs
by mary ann blinkhorn

tea at 3

sitting at table 

rose and blue laugh merrily

as picasso

playing with sugar cubes

trembles with joy

and feeling de light

escapes into state-of-the-art idea

he dampens cloth napkin

with cold tea

wipes his brow

please keep this to yourselves, he says

we’re in this together

by mary ann blinkhorn

Written for:  http://www.threewordwednesday.com

Current Status

She lies in a hospital bed

feeling like salted pretzel

pinned to the sheets and mattress

by cunning catheter

and her wrist’s IV

 

Drip 2 3 4

Drip 2 3 4

 

Lips pursed

she reaches for pen in handbag

and then for a sequined note pad

 

Poet’s clock ticking

she attempts to navigate

the site of self

the sight of self

by jotting down notes

recording her consciousness

but pen is tired

 

Drip 2 3 4

Drip 2 3 4

No words

 

Nurse:  Would you like some pain medicine?

She:  Perhaps I should…

Ivy Wrist:  You’re not getting much sleep, are you?

 

She wishes it to be over

but it’s not going to be over

not until twenty-two more hours

when foley and packing

have been removed

and she can prove

to a nurse

that she can go pee

 

Nurse:  Don’t forget

No pushing

No pulling

No heavy lifting

 

The End

 

By Mary Ann Blinkhorn