The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Aquamarine

In land of color,
where hues lie in corundum slumber 
the night mine picks at memories
bends thems into scintillation
as the orchestra crescendos
against the seashore of sanded
sugar cookies died aquamarine
our tongues like blue flames
flicker as we gaggle around
the palm trees and throw coconuts
at the nefariously dark figures
and scratch our armpits til
they smell like the young boy
I dreamed I would have been.
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