Because I suck at it. Oh, you’ll regret reading further, you will.

Homecoming

My feet ache blue, like air over Homer.
There was a rumor yesterday of sunlight,
of creeping melt, but it burnt
only the ice’s skin to refreezing water
and bounced back blind
into the air.

There’s something in the air
more than air, a rocket by Homer
bursting up my sinuses. I am blind
from sneezing, not from sunlight,
or the dancing water
in my eyes that burnt

me saline. Burnt
like the aching blue air
that spills from gas. Like the water
blamed for the homers
when the ball slips fingers. Like the sunlight
dancing through the blinds.

The motes alight, the floaters leave me blind
with crippled retinas burnt
by twinkling sunlight.
This should be the melancholy air
of some new Homer
dreaming of the endless water,

of the ship floating on the water.
Sailors afraid and deaf and blind
or caught up like a platespinner, Homer
Laughlin’s fiesta blue song burnt
into the waving air.
They needed sunlight

bouncing from the waves, not sunlight
tucking its head under water,
denying the air
its blossomed warmth. I blind
myself in darkness, burnt
hollow to hold a homer

of sunlight, thick on the duck blind,
still as the water the heat burnt
away, a racing homer battening on air.

In my defense… no. I don’t have a defense. It was for a challenge by Rob Mackenzie, who is a sadist. Masochist. Oh, he’s something, that’s for sure!