The black cat lays low upon the cool patio
the laundry hangs upon the strung up balcony
crispy hot and ready to be
wrapped around shower wet skin.
I am led on my front, inspirited with the fizz
of freshly iced water
striped socks play dead
on the white kitchen tiles where
plastic bags of cold yellow curry wait to be tossed.
I am spurred to spill my spirit to
the silver man that lives in my fridge
and to confess my envy to the sizzling
flipped burgers he ketchups nicely.
Planes skyrocket, boats aspire to the sphere and
I pack my rucksack
with talcum powder and camera film.
Citronella burns sour and seeps into the
bountiful bicep’s of the moist air
as I dry solid in cream candle wax.
Honorable mention
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