March Archer Poet Rhyme

UFO

There’s a boy who’s face hasn’t even found its shape
His mindscape is a landscape falling in and out of place
He hasn’t quite learned how to grasp and hold his space 
He’s foreign to the maze of learning from mistakes 

There’s a man with a guitar and a sparrow of a voice 
His fingerbones made slender for flipping golden coins
He opens up his mouth and opens up a void
He opens up his mouth, and that’s a lovely noise 

There’s flowers in her hair and it’s raining on venus
Mosquitos landing on her legs and sucking out her sweetness 
The sparrow man sings quietly in an attempt to reach us
The boy sticks to the tune, though his notes aren’t the cleanest 

The tiny houses quiet down, the church is bathed in snow
The boy looks up at the green sky to catch a UFO
The man points bony fingers, the saucer is his home
A giant beam hones in on them, and they’re gone in the glow

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