Neptune

Share this story

Share on FacebookShare on XShare on LinkedIn

buradaki/Reuters

Neptune’s streaky blue,
Bluer than the blue
Off Bermuda, blue
That through the eye strikes
Past the mind, a new
World. We see the likes
Of it nowhere else.

I rub, in my way,
Neptune’s blue substance
Between my fingers.
A fine world powder,
The substance lingers,
Tough to wash away.

Brian J. Buchanan

About the Author

Brian J. Buchanan

Brian J. Buchanan is a writer in Nashville, Tenn. His short stories, poems, and essays have appeared in Crannóg, Chronicles, the Westchester Review, Literary Matters, Modern Age, the Cumberland River Review, Potomac Review, and elsewhere.

Comments

Advertisement

Advertisement

test Free Article Ribbon

Want to read more? Create a free account to keep exploring National Review.