ponds

.
we came
on our bikes, taking the forest trail,
and i slay dragons
that hide, mean like gnomes,
behind bloom-heavy apple trees,

you say you see ‘em,
only in my eyes &
only when they fletch teeth
as their head rolls
to the ground–

On a wood bench
near the pond–
you dis-sect fried trout for me,
as i tell how i drowned
in Monet at the MOMA,

oil on canvas– mural sized–
water lilies, between which i sat for eternity,
forgetting who i am, crowd
around, fading to silence &
my heart banged loud
against my chest,

those lilies in the pond
are not yet blooming–

on the way back home,
along the river, i
spread my arms until it hurts,
weave carpets from the wool
of newborn sheep with
dots of strawberries

& try to catch the wind,
that sways raw
against my cheeks
with a drizzling spray-paint tongue

.

linking up with dVerse where Joy Ann Jones aka Hedgewitch rocks the OpenLinkNIght bar…so write a poem and join the fun at 3pm EST..

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