Yellow Trim Madi Vander Ark
black sky shimmers
and quiet little clouds shiver in anticipation for day.
melting, drooling into thrashing
oozing, fattening clumps of
like the lard we scraped off our thick lamb stew.
giving way to cool pools of purple base,
which dance silently to waves of pure mass.
A glow, no, a disgustingly bright light emerges,
pounding at the gates.
writhing, to reach its little hands into and through this glorious blue.