Under a Blue Sky
Look at that blue sky
she said
as you lay beside her
in the field
behind her house
and she pointed upward
and you followed her finger
as it indicated
the expanse of blue
and white clouds
and a few birds in flight
That cloud formation
seems like angels with harps
and that
she added pointing
further over
Looks like a horse's head
you nodded and said
And that formation
over there
looks like Miss Brody's ass
and she slapped your hand
and laughed
and her laughter
carried over the field
and there was that moment
you never wanted to end
like when she kissed
and her tongue protruded
into your mouth
or when she held you close
and you breathed in
her scent
borrowed from her mother
[...] Read more
poem by Terry Collett
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