This is a
Poetry Wednesday Offering (< < clickable link)...please go check out the offerings.
they spoke of speakeasies
where folks cavorted on stages and tabletops
snapping fingers, clapping hands
and rhythmically kicking up their legs
while singers belted out blues
me, I sing indigo
I sing in a blue so dark, it appears black
I sing of dancing decadently
whole and naked
under inky, cobalt skies
though I -
I lie hoary and bereft, in a hospital bed
(in this unaesthetic place; my songs, my longings lacerates, like a living scalpel)
