Bucket Of Tar

Here is a bucket of tar 

and a photograph of us dancing

on the head of a pin

shaped from a cloud already burning away.

I know how angry you are,

that you'd love to pour across my border

and make me care, but 

my bridges are mirrors where magpies scry. 

I know I said things, we both did,

with knives and roses in our teeth.

I am Eve with an apple in my jaw,

for whom God made highways and the will to survive.

Take the tar

and make your skin warm again.

Travel over yourself to the next natural barrier,

listen to the river and toss the photograph in.

______

for The Sunday Muse #117

photograph by the amazing Susie Clevenger

POCHEMUCHKA

I have lots of questions
as the nukes come flying in.

Did you borrow my sweater? The neck is fucked up.
How long are you going to hog the computer?
Are you even listening to me?

I wonder if our shadows will be burned into the concrete?
There goes my to-do list.
Whoa! What was
______

a flash 55 for Kerry.