Poem of the Week | Under the Blankets by Hon Corbett
Like an under whisked meringue
the downy duvet lies flat
over our mountainous range
but wriggling fingers pull at
the now slowly rippling surface.
Its snowcapped peaks melting
into marshmallow clouds
like a windless ship’s sail sinks
to rise again.
Stark and sun-bleached
making shade for our sleepy sloop
as our bare bottoms
pink as peaches –
and the same shape too
wriggle downwards and
press heavily into the
Genoise mattress.
We stretch our tarp taut overhead
and giggling under our canopy
we hide.
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Cover photo by Massimo Virgilio on Unsplash.
