Listen

Blue


ether cobalt carbon cold veins and skin
without opening my mouth, I taste salt again
in a dark blue bed with a future ghost
whose form insists appearances
but disappears when I blink
with lungs and lead and altar bread
into blue I sink

don't worry, your hands won't leave fingerprints...
you're not even holding the jar you put me in....
in a dark blue bed, wear white bedtime gloves
or bathe me in bleach to reach for me
with fingers tipped in blue ink;
with lungs and lead and altar bread
into blue I sink

plate me with tin, fix me with fins
what will happen if I speak
like a raving loon, milk me for glue
for simple things that I think...
siphon the dead siren instead
for water bluer than ink

words and music by Leslie Dean
© Leslie Dean