Now don these hats.
Firestarter! Fire / Starter
Now do we wear these hats?
Like the one you got me at taco bell
white geraniums lined the walk; we plucked
a spray and wore smiling masks. It is
evening again. Kate fell asleep
with pizza in her mouth, again &
again we don the hats of jazzy languish.
I don’t know how to say I anymore, suddenly
two forms across the street. &
cannibal flowers of the American dream
whistle across a silent square. From the time
I looked and saw, the light had not changed,
but I had.
The morning is an appalled conscience
after the big things of night. White geraniums
lined the walk. It was evening.
Now don these oven temperature hats.
Now we do wear red, these hats of red.
Ryan Mills attended Manzanita Elementary School in Tucson, AZ and is a federal employee living in Portland, OR. Ryan has had poems published in The Heavy Feather Review, Gramma Poetry, Poor Claudia, etc. and is the poetry editor for The Gravity Of The Thing, an online literary journal.