Here are the adumbrations
Of my loosely cajoled day
A morning euphony
Of pots and plates and shrill bird cries
Wakes me flailing
Arms bent to the shape
Of cut-out Balinese dancers
I no longer indulge
In the luxury of anxieties
Dreams a fading montage
Of wet paint scored by the uncertain wheels
Of fast fading calligraphies
Just regale in the blessing
Of your cat perfect smile
Tied in bemusement’s bow
From the blurred return
Of rain smeared windows and dandelions
(The strange hemispheroid beauty of excavated pieces)
Nodding
In their new assent upraised
About the Creator
C S Hughes
C S Hughes grew up on the edges of sea glass cities and dust red towns. He has been published online and on paper. His work tends to the lurid, and sometimes to the ludicrous, but seeks beauty in all its ecstasy and artifice.
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