Sheet Metal Sun

The television circuits laid out like frozen meat;
a blood that oozed over the nations.
As summer comes only to pass again,
where will we find ourselves this year?
Beneath the blossoming trees,
sunlight spilling across the broken leaves
as warm rain scatters downward to cleanse?
Will we find ourselves dancing
with the cats that prowl and their chocolate hairs,
will we find ourselves seizing this certain warmth?
Or will we be extorting our minds with produce,
like cuts that ease deep into our organs?
This Plastic-Fantastic summer will come.
As the factories burst up in smoke
their workers working overtime,
we will consume their products
(like a raging river barreling forwards).
We put our money on the table-
even in a bruised economy,
and we will run around like insects
Flaunting our bar codes like no other species.
A factory constructed summer runs wild,
with no conception of the impending doom
of eventually turning into roadkill.

Reflective

I stand here separated
a mirror reflecting dutifully
Sharing its cruel image.
It shows what I’m not used to;
these strange appendages,
paper white skin
polluted purple scars.
Freckles and blemishes map
their way around my body.

I do not find myself ugly,
but when I look at myself
For some reason I can’t bear it –
and tears seem to flood my eyes.

Cursed with the body of a 12 year-old,
a mind too sharp to care about it,
but emotions too true to ignore it.