Entry #6 - Poetry

[acoustics1220]

Sestina


She pulls out a maroon
Device. Falling from a cord,
She plucks it up. An ear bud
Dangling from the end. The screen
lights up at her touch spinning the dial
Looking around, in the pocket; away vanishes the case.

You would think procrastinating was the case
Anxiety has painted my cheeks maroon
Perhaps if I turn the dial
That would pull the right cord
A wall I have built to screen
my ears. Louder sounds spew from the bud.

I imagine fresh flowers poking up from the ground, new buds
Holding my palms close to encase
I stare at its round center, the yellow pollen a screen
Vivid colors twitch and sway. Maroon
petals draw my gaze. Pulled by a cord
Reeled in by the spinning of a dial

Interrupted by a ring. I stare at the dial.
A thought begins to bud,
Lunging I grab the cord.
I look back at the door, a strange case.
The phone to my ear, I speak, then distracted, spots of maroon
dance in my vision. A hand, a screen,

I jump back, off-balance, nails catching the door screen.
Turned up - like on a dial
Her temper, rising maroon
Up her neck. A hand strikes; a welt rising like a bud.
Time passes, she walks in with a case.
Salve on her fingertips, leaning away I feel it cool along the welt-cord

My fingers twist around the cord.
In the corner of my eye, she looks towards the ripped screen
The lid ticks shut over the case.
Squeaks and scrapes resound from the dial
Emotions, thoughts begin to bud
Nearly falling from her lips, marooned.

She left the room holding the case, after replacing the dial on the table
Birds twitter outside, a chord of notes stream through the screen.
The wind outside thumps the buds against the siding maroon petals fall from my sleeve.

© MH
writing style || Sestina