No Blink
In patched Victorian Iron
Fast, fibrous, connected tendrils
She closed her eyelids reflecting the rays of inspection
The surface appears, sparkles, flattened day time fireworks
Sideways tall marsh grass and clouds a corridor
Spinning tires hiss amnesia
Reminded of identity
The skyway scares the wary
Mighty plants glimmer through the night, they spew yes, they stink yes, but still something
Sports pillow cushion
Hope fully no one fluffs the approach
Always constructing and the routes fill appetizing with chatter
No jeers, see?
Lids roll back that was no blink
No jerks, ok
-Christopher Romero
Photographs Poetry