Slanting Sun

My home is on the top of the world.

Having rolled over in orbit, I feel sun on my backside.

It’s summer in the underbelly; lucky Argentina.

The light angles in like a flashlight under my chin,

All ghoulish, accentuating contrast.

South windows are a dusty liquid filtering rays like pond scum.

I blub like a sluggish fish.

November runs on borrowed energy, bounced off a distant prism.

2 thoughts on “Slanting Sun

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s