Love is mud

I go into the very slush of words plucking poems in a recent movie. Boy and girl kiss in squishy mud as in circus feat high on the roof. We yawn into this slushy movie.

A kiss takes place in stark mud. It was high like simile’s circus, one attempted in the top of tent. All the while the tent is a sketchy sky with its hole , a chink letting in starlight.

Tent is very rope bridge balancing history of the country with movie going love. Bridge undulates like terrain, like waters about a head in river.

A bridge is like a sword that swells to feed army to free the country. My word comes out of a slushpile ,a poem for the day from a night.

(after watching a movie “Rangoon”)