Pearlagraph

Little victims –

misshaped in form,
or perhaps
nature’s mistakes?

A cursory
glance
at the cat

who eagerly
scratches
in the dirt,

at the anonymous
minutemen

residing in a
lonely Apollonian
orbit, under
rotting elm roots.

Sharp claws
cleave
mirror curls
into crinkly
silvers of nine,

(a rather magical number, methinks)

gaining a burnish
familiar to
the ages of time

while a ukulele
sings useless,
forlorn melodies

set adrift on
thick currents
of the sweltering
summer.

Rainbows!
An excited girl
shouts nearby,

beneath which
simmers a merry,
desirous thirst

for something else,

other than oolong tea
and papery- tasting

biscuits

© Zelda Reville

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2 thoughts on “Pearlagraph

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