The Blues (a poem)

Bask in nighttime blues

stars dot the sky like flecks of white paint

Mothers moan for lost children –

we want rhythm, but not the blues

the aqua blue of deep seas

the blackened blue of bruised eyes

the blues guitar of the Mississippi Delta

the crystal blue eyes of your lover –

sing the blues, young one

sing ‘em while draped in a blue dress

drowning in muddy waters.

(Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash)