Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Thundering Llamas

This morning it thundered llamas.
The green needles on the pines
shook
and I rolled
underneath the sheets
once more baking apples
in my head.
My flight to New York
left without me
without sound,
an ex-lover sneaking away on a bicycle.
I poured milk into my bowl,
and doodled with the spoon.
It all seemed to surface at will,
flax seeds,
raisins,
my anger,
circles and eights.
Just once,
I would like to wake-up
cherry.