LOW SKY, LAZY WIND

A simple poem to start.

The Family Plot

low sky

lazy wind

February

10 o’clock Tuesday in Widnes

is as grey as those words sound

we bring bright plastic flowers

for this grave without a headstone

someone has stolen the vases

and red Christmas bouquets

that we had put on before

This is a true story. Me and my sister went to change the flowers on the family plot in February and the vases and Christmas flowers had been stolen. 
I'm not sure about the poem, but I like the starkness of the telling.
This next one is all fiction. It wrote itself over a couple of weeks but the form eluded me until I hit upon the prose poem layout.

casual crimson

the three billion cells that collectively composed his person suspected this new red shirt is the business

as he walks the town to divine the best spot to be seen in

the rain has other ideas and forces his feet into the nearest sports bar

to sip blood warm beer and stare at real life on the big screen

there is nothing else

he will not get to fly his kite heavier as it is than the wet air

wisdom descends and he knows why his shirt was so reasonably priced

the fabric’s dye had stained his skin a deep crimson

and then he knows in his bones that the outcome of this night will replicate itself across all his weekends

and that it welcomes him into the kind of life he never imagined would be his

The phrase to fly one's kite is an old saying means to have a good time. It seemed to suit to the poem. 
Here's Anna Ternheim.

Until next time.