TSM 175

Shotgun ravens
awaken the forest of your hair,

blasts from air conditioners
wing memory, our flight or fight or dance

response of bees hummed and hemmed
and hawed in this new glass hive,

hexes your scent of ocean 
as curled and waved as the crow flies –

anything but straight,
anything but the fleeing from there to here

with even bubble wrap from our boxes
packing heat,

night falls, collared
in a noose of 100 degrees,

hits the pavement,
pops and wheezes,

and we've yet to plug in the lamps,
the apartment a shadow of wings,

while across the river
cop cars and firetrucks strobe –

a dark angel, you shimmy
in your underwear,

the lights of the city
our disco ball

The Sunday Muse

25 thoughts on “TSM 175

  1. qbit, you have ridden in to save the day. Crows do what they want; no use in setting an itinerary for them. Glad to see you are stayin alive.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Awesome…but I would also enjoy this as its own micro poem:

    “a dark angel, you shimmy
    in your underwear,

    the lights of the city
    our disco ball”

    Liked by 3 people

  3. “. . . with even bubble wrap from our boxes packing heat,” makes me smile. I am not sure why, in Texas “packing heat” means carrying a loaded gun. Literally, that’s quite an energy saver by using the bubble wrap.
    BTW, in two more days I can do what I want to without registering my gun, new law. Not even a test to take or a need to conceal it.
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Blasts from the air conditioner certainly makes ones hair take flight. Enjoyed the references to different hair types. Nice played with words waved, curled and straight

    Sometimes it’s all a knotted mess here…

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh, the crows will find a way. “the lights of the city our disco ball” Never thought of city light that way, but I’m sure glad you brought it to my mind. So love this poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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