The Blue Period

We were tending to all the wrong wounds---
and turning our cheeks cerulean
and our lips had lost all semblance of magic and enchantment

And the hair left on our head was its own mirage
and it was weeping too---
falling and changing colors and leaving us behind

And our throats were aging faster than our minds
and our eyes were scores older than what was embedded in our chest

We were tired---
and stuck in the Frugal Repast
with nothing to do
and nothing to say to each other
and only the will to look in the opposite direction

for something better (or different) than this---or any

---more

---or less