December 27, 2017

Poetry: “Frame”

Sticky as a baby’s highchair,
That mile-high smile,
Slotted through
Spoon-fed personal style.

Apple juice residue
Speckled over
Muted earth tones;
Western terrains
Scooped from
Slabs of clay;
Hard-pinch mornings –
The waking to gray.

Bricks backed by
Mortared facts,
Sculpted into
Sealed knickknacks.
Unrest upswept;
Unscented upsets.

A parting shot:
Lifelong love
Went to pot.
Poised to pluck his name
From the shared bed frame —
Roadkill rage —
A pen-marked page.


© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

Stone © Breanne Beals

About Jane Bled

Human. Happy in my solitude. Free speech; unencumbered by expectations. Awakening. My purpose: to exhibit my art. Thank you for browsing my gallery. Fakes: stay away. Namaste.


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