The wind beneath us
Misses our sweat, stains & messes
Rinsed in clean water
Scrubbed in soap & bleach
We jiggle & jam to be free
Instead you pin our shoulders on
Lines with brown clips
Hooked our faces to marvel
The heat from this cloudless day
Our bows are scattered across
Blues, pinks, blacks & whites
The sky watches the chorus
of birdsongs & buzzing bees
The green in the grass is new
You peer from the window
ready with your basket & starched hands
to fold us over your skin
Cotton- softly sagging, frayed edges
Linen- loosely wrinkled, stretched out
Smelling unabashedly - wind-kneaded, sun-baked -
Franz Marc, Flatternde Wäsche im Wind (1906)
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, March Wind Ekprastic, Hosted by Merril D. Smith. Thanks for your visits and comments.
