Bullet Proof Clouds

The breath I breathe
condensates like morning dew.
Trickling down the blades of grass,
in the place I live.
Can my breath go to the desert,
and pool in the deepest holes
of the sand?

The day breaks.

Cuts from the blades may drip in red,
and the sand may be saturated in iron.
Let this iron bulletproof the clouds,
and from my breath
cover the youngest of hearts.

No tears to cry.
No worries to be held.
In mouth or metal; weaponry,
fireworks floating ‘bye’.


2 thoughts on “Bullet Proof Clouds

  1. t h i n g s + f l e s h says:

    i so admire your verse, Tara. you are a poet with huge imaginative and metaphorical gifts. tony

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