by Richard King Perkins II
My frown lines are as dark
as cold sap; fit tight,
a drill sunken by the magnetism
It’s alright to be humorless.
You subtracted my solar plexus
from the punch of every constellation.
Still, you tried to find sorrow,
sought to apologize,
tried to tell me
of the ferret caged inside you.
You’ve become colorless
as the urchins of deadcast.
Now it’s respectable
a sustained fluctuation of sharp stones
Loose sleeves aren’t necessary
for pinecones to appear.
Allow the smiling quiet
to keep its quietness
lifted by the finest sieve of dawn.
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.