Into a Zinc White Sink
I fell into a very deep sleep in dark purple Octopi Ink
I watched myself sink, sink, sink into a zinc white sink
My beauty reached out for comfort, care and love
but got stretched by the neck by your gardening glove
As your clippers snipped off the bloom
that once was me
I was set afloat in a glass of Chablis
8 thoughts on "Into a Zinc White Sink"
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This a great little poem (if slightly tragic with a comic edge?) Love the repetition
and rhyme. I’d like have glass of chablis with you.
Thank you…yes!..if you are a flower, how can life not be tragic I suppose–and I would gladly share a chablis with you!!
I love the rhyme and repetition and sensibility of this poem.
Thank you so much for your comment Shaun! So glad you liked it.
you made me laugh
That makes me happy to hear!
Oh Ann, this poem proposes an opportunity to consider the tempting suggestion of becoming a hand corsage . . .
Think of all the slow dances donning a wrist would offer?
Love your fun splashes of alliteration!
the repetition is wonderful, and the saucy tone terrific! great job, ann