Calling Bluff on the Blind

Calling bluff on the blind

Where sleeping dogs lie.

The telephone ringing

In the center of your thigh.



Dangling feathers down the

Side of my head.

Listening to that mockingbird call

Flight paths, heaven fed.



Take a look skyward

They are directing you

to the frequency rendering.

Where the bare code stands,

resurrecting.

Bare to where every coat seems outdated.

The morning, she speaks

Of translations and cups

That need drinking.



I watch my branches

Shake out words from

Their buds.

Notes that carry to your

Mental lips, whispering.



So round up your lavender

Your, muddy water and wine.

Splash it upon your face;

Rusty old artifact of time.



You are my mirror

Resurrecting from the

dusted clouds passing by.



© -Sonja J. Johnston 18-Mar-2014