Monday 5 May 2014

1 Poem by Ian Mullins


This morning in a jewellery store
I saw a man
take a handful of diamonds
like a kid picking up snow
and throw them down
on the glass

and they sounded just like
the rain on your window;
but there’s as many bugs on the glass
as there are freckles on your breasts
so we count them one by one,
but each time we count
there is one more or one less

just like this morning in the store
when the man sweated diamonds
as he counted the shines
again and again

but missed the one
shining dirty rain on the bugs in your window
your freckles like fire ants
under my fingers;

I guess today was the day
I lit my first blaze.

Ian Mullins was born in Liverpool, England, and is grateful to the editors of The Camel Saloon, Right Hand Pointing, Off The Coast, Neon,and many other sites and magazines for allowing him to travel on-line without a passport.

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