Kettle
Location
A quiet stone stillness
Flushed by petal skin
Glowing but whispering
Eyes painted with grim
Black lines suggest somber
Whimsy chilled by
Apathetic limbs worn
By an apricot smile
As genuine as an emerald
The wavy blonde red-lipped
Lady in the pool next door
Wears ‘round her neck
In an icy glass vile.
This is a girl
With thoughts seemingly
Set ablaze
Laced with words that tango
With one another,
Bursting up in bright
Colorful flames of
Perpetually joyous amber
Pure Godly crystal blue
Organically hearted green
Deeply pensive plum
And contented peach.
But inside that girl
Under ruby sunset hair
Embedded beneath
Silent tranquil skin,
Steam is building up
As fickle anxiety
Boils over.
But she has silenced
The whistle of
The socially anxious
Kettle, so that
Only noiseless vapor
Suffocating words
Stammers out.
Her thoughts don’t flow
Like the liquid colors
She dresses in,
They race like
Vibrant speeding blurs
Colliding on hot pavement,
Crashing, burning
Draped in placid skin.