Heather Wyatt
The face of the Creek man
looked off in the distance
with me tucked safely
in his peripheral.
You could see why
this man was famous.
Heather Wyatt
The face of the Creek man
looked off in the distance
with me tucked safely
in his peripheral.
You could see why
this man was famous.
By Heather Wyatt
Photo: Denise ~*~
I stare upward
after you make
a surprisingly loud
thud in my light fixture.
You and your kind
have invaded my house.
Swarms of thousands,
red, with black dots,
a design to imply innocence
but you fly at my mouth
and eyes.
So, I see you, wandering
along in the burning fixture
heading close to the bulb
and I watch wishing
I had popcorn.