A Blue Lobster's Claws
They could be called blue,
So go closer to turquoise,
therefore closer to green.
Preserved by the dive
of the deep sea that embraces
all ruins managing life,
The pincer movements
share a world with triremes
that have long lost their rowers.
Green Revolution
Out of a skyscraper window,
The neglected patch
And verdant reserve
Looks like a spot of paint
That has missed the awning
It was meant to illuminate.
Passing by on my feet, I see
A broken savanna,
Missing wild animals,
Nothing but a crown of grass
Crashing against a hydrant.
Up from my knees
It appears to be
A coiffure erupting
From the exposed dirty scalp
Of the sidewalk.
Sitting down in the middle,
I swim in shade
Up to my shoulders,
And then when I lay down,
Suddenly a jungle
Has rushed in all around me.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has
appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, One Ghana One Voice, Caper
Literary Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear
Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. His chapbook Common Symptoms
of an Enduring Chill Explained, has been published by Folded Word
Press. He maintains a blog at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking
to publish his first novel.
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