Summer

My margarita glass is filled with summer;

gold dripped elixir packed in ice

so my wax wings cannot melt.

Its salt rimmed halo sits holy on my lips

as I drink back indifference

and fly crookedly towards a damp new season.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s