May 5, 2012

my room

An everted helicopter
Drab olive green
Baby huey
Dripped away white
All the sound
Of moving air
Deafening dreamt
Plastic army men
Moan like it's their last
Lungs gasping at dirt
Of barefooted farmers
Sweating heat under
Bubbled up pain t
Looking on red rivers
From this field
And that
Forgotten meadow
Buried secrets
Licked wounds made
Of broken mirror
Flight blades weave
The smoke braiding
Clouds of jet fuel
Choke arteries
And rescue
The ceiling

1 comment:

Abhra Pal said...

It is really interesting and nice read to read your poetry, on how you describe your own world.