NaBloPoMo 6

Skunk’s Song

It’s the coat, really,
True black and prized
like a smart black cat
with a bright white racing stripe
down its back, a coat so black
it contains night, the moon,
even me. I understand this urge
to rise up and take the dark.
My tight-fisted dreams are all animal.
And that slow pungent scent
wafting through the chilled November air
is a declaration of war
for all who cross our dream path.


Kay Cooke said…
Jessica said…
I love this line:

"My tight-fisted dreams are all animal."

What a great & magical line!

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