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Poem

RED fire ball submerging,
we slip from the light
watching our shadows bloom.

A smoldering sphere,
not clean-cut, but badly drawn,
its REDNESS wobbles and fumes.
as it downs itself
still smoking a last shred of day.

For a few long moments Banshees
go silent.
Curious Giraffes stretch their necks
to sniff the freshly deceased,
as one by one
they black-out the flares
of self-rising spirits.

Another evening
in the zoological realms
of space.
The sun-swimmers flop on the beach
basking in the last RED drops.

Venus in her dressing-room,
is plugging-in her shine.
She adorns her gown
with fractals and sprinkles.
Mars goes in and out
of its dust filled hollowness,
seeking a deeper RED
to die within.

Skin still blistering with sandy itches
we head for home
ignoring the sighs of a leaking
and sullen surf.

A herd of colorful umbrellas
fold their pronged headgears
down into a dimmer,
more dusky RED decline.

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