Octavia in the Flesh
I am the blip on your one eyed radar —
a catnip to this neurotic night fever.
I am the dirty rubber swing
in your rearview mirror – a bullet train;
barrelling along at full steam ahead.
To kiss the lips of a deathly sun
in the maelstrom of morning’s song —
La Vie en Rose twisting on a knife edge.
Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 