“Crazy!?” She glimpses a tiny speck of blue,

That just dropped down before her face,

As she watches montages of ‘The Voice’

On her phone, lying on her stomach on her bed.

                                            *she views it*

And, crazily, she knows what it is!

Not quite believing, not quite disbelieving.

It’s a Sign of the Times, a targeted rocket into

Minds fear-eyesight, a small speck of blue.

                                              *she goggles at it*

And being crazy, her soul freezingly blues

Over her heart, in the moment it takes

To future-see; she wants to scream “Not me,

Not me!” Too many blues, too many specks.

                                                   *it stares at her*

*

Crazies... She puffs air, blue speck floats up,

And drops. Just a speck of blue, from a

Larger swathe outside, seasons-weathered,

from an ordinary tarp, disintegrating blue.

                                                    *it smiles*

Crazy?

                                                      *she weeps*

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen

© 3/ 23/2023