Poetry

You were my deepest
secret, like a blue
diamond. Playing with
children's moon, sun
releases you from chattel's
bonding.

Who was an abettor
in dark, when fireflies
were starting a mass
funeral? Moon was very
hot and you won't touch
it any more.

There was always an
ethnic rivalry, between
planets and stars. Anexoplanet
peeps into the field of
red clovers. Someone wants
to develop a progeny.