Orange Creamsicle

sailorpoet

The sun melts like an orange creamsicle
Down the side of her rising ridges
Drawn like a child across the sky
What would be more perfect than her?
A slight bump disturbs the straight edges
Maybe as a child would have drawn
His mind momentarily distracted
But the art teacher presses him forward.
The sun melts like an orange creamsicle

Aubergine skins wrap their ridges
Like blankets, when the orange cream lifts
Up the spaces in between each child
The uniqueness of each individual
Can be seen in the palimpsests of life
Molded from earth and left to dance.
No, not that image, not that metaphor,
Plato saw forms against shadows in a cave
And chose to walk out into the light.
Aubergine skins wrap her ridges

I lie in the water, submitting to clarity
Underneath, piped music tells me what to feel.
Or tries. Instead I feel like becoming

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