Clouds

He jerks the crumpled box until a Newport cigarette falls out. The slender stick sways between the invisible creases of his bottom lip and the tip of his tongue. Orange flames set it on fire. Smoke lingers.

Oversized cottonballs spill across the faded blue strokes that color daybreak. God's tears fall into them. Man's nicotine addiction rises to them. They totter on the edge of air like a brave man unsure of sky diving off the earth's highest mountain. He watches them. He counts clusters of them spread above his head.

She exhales. "Stop starin' at the sky. You making me nervous." The aged dents of her face pull away from each other and a row of yellow teeth emerges.

"I ain't starin' at the sky. I'm starin' at the clouds."
© Miss Brandy

The Interrupted Artist Speaks displays EXCERPTS of the poetry, works of art or stories I have written. All of these works are original and inspired by God and the creativity within me. If you see phrases that fade off like this….. this means a part of the poem was deleted. Some people take pride in stealing other peoples works and claiming it as their own. For this reason, I won’t publish the entire work. I have a copyright for all excerpts and poems – so if you are one of those people that steals others words– just know that if you use my work, you will not get away. God has given us all enough creativity so that we don’t have to steal others.

She should not have come

Her thin fingers flatten the wrinkles bunched together on the pointed petals in her skirt. Amidst the crisp white uniforms and loud summer suits the narrow glances lost in the blood red of her blouse make her uncomfortable. She should not have worn this. Not here. She should have worn a black and a white and a wide rimmed black hat with lace, sparkles, or some other ornament that says “hello” to everyone it sees.

“Bathrooms to the left past the classrooms and programs for a small donation at the table here on the right,” mumbled an older lady with a face untouched by time.

She knows where the bathrooms are, and she is not surprised to hear they are selling programs. Children’s voices, the laughter of her past, and the pit pat of her footsteps running from classroom to classroom are all she can hear whenever she comes back to the tabernacle. She should not have come here.
© Miss Brandy

The Interrupted Artist Speaks displays EXCERPTS of the poetry, works of art or stories I have written. All of these works are original and inspired by God and the creativity within me. If you see phrases that fade off like this….. this means a part of the poem was deleted. Some people take pride in stealing other peoples works and claiming it as their own. For this reason, I won’t publish the entire work. I have a copyright for all excerpts and poems – so if you are one of those people that steals others words– just know that if you use my work, you will not get away. God has given us all enough creativity so that we don’t have to steal others.