So travel the foggy road,
shrouded by dewy grass
growing deep into space.
Thin winds flip silence
like cat eye chromosomes,
cause ripples on the highway,
and we, I being me,
and you, of course,
being so coarse,
scream like downed planes
at the shadow-quiet cove.
The teens on the island
fix their dilated gazes
as we leave the skyland,
trailing silvery smoke
over the suspension bridge,
driving straight into the rising sun. |
Submission Name: Skyland
