The Place We Live

The sun sits
in leaky splendour;
watermelon juice
staining this upholstery
this smog brown décor this 
Faberge sunset this 
velveteen smoke haze.

A cloying choice
but here we all sit
in our plush living room
our shrine of consecrated ignorance
and listen to the clock
and the crackle roar of our future.

Written for Misky’s Twiglet #246 “the sun sits pretty”

27 thoughts on “The Place We Live

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