The Black Helicopters
not even a shift in the night
or a bass chuka-chuka;
they will darken the humble sellers
of shrunken, dusty oranges
maybe a bad mouth,yellow teeth,
passed words to the birdmen
to crack open the sky,
a black walnut, half-brained
a ball of string,the smell of fire,
bags of sudden song,burnt shout of
hot and hot and hot;
nothing to put back together
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment