Survivor from the party,
The Mylar balloon droops
Slightly below eye level.
I bat it between my hands
With moderate force,
More than you would think
Would be required to juggle
Air encased in metalized film.
I palm it like a basketball
And press the sides together
Until the silver strains,
An inflatable mirror.
Who thought to decorate
With compressed air,
Cupped in balloons, whispers
Under curled hands, into ears.
Showing posts with label Mylar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mylar. Show all posts
Monday, September 14, 2009
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