BILLOWING LAUNDRY

BILLOWING LAUNDRY

Billowing laundry in the breeze,
Dreams deficient tossed and torn,
Standing trial in the thunderclap
Of another vicious summer storm.

Standing vigil in the half-light,
The shadows drape across the plain
And hurl their hail and lightning bolts
Midst torrents of cascading rain.

And here I lie a naked sailor,
Vigilant in early dawn.
Stiff and rigid, unrelenting
Oil can empty on an unkempt lawn.

I dream in colors, waking visions
That splash across a canvas bleak,
Pleading for my yesterdays,
A panoply of movement sweet.

My lover kindly lays his hands
Upon me in his brave embrace
And counts the tears that swirl and swell
And pool in puddles across my face.

My body shakes, a timeless plea,
A litany of common prayer
To the traveler I used to be,
His footfalls lost to rogue despair.

Like billowing laundry in the wind,
My plans hang solemn, high and dry.
And carrion birds, they mock my plight,
Against the gray foreboding sky.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED