Under the Cover of Black Umbrellas

Under the Cover of Black Umbrellas

Under the cover of green – made all the more luscious
By the butterflies,
Perched, on her black umbrella
Maybe “perfect” isn’t meant to keep a love alive.
Even seashells have their flaws
And he threw his out long ago
With the torn and stained underwear.

Bundled up, while mother escapes
To the parking lot.
Cat on prey – sucking down a cigarette –
Ultra light. Ultra closeted.

Haunted memories meant to say goodbye
There’s no movin’ on
Embers christening the swirls she’d call heat,
Others cancer in wait.
Under the guard of angels
Guised
Left somewhere in a purgatory state –
Who won’t decide what makes a poem the caliber of Plath?
Lord knows Hughs was out fucking (no different than me)
While family obligations pressed on and feline frenzied mothers
Reached for their lighters –
Under cover. Under black umbrellas.