Wry

Into that laughter she takes
a wrong turn, lands
outside a stone 

wall where vines bare
their veins. The host separates
direct light from parallel lines 

across 

wind-stirred dirt. She picks it up
at the last possible moment
before rain drowns out sound.

3 thoughts on “Wry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s