|
|
Poet's |
|
|
|
If you simply must dance outside... wear something. Even if you choose the patio where morning glories climb to shade your feet and cool your step, where half the world can’t see… wear something. The other half peers wide-eyed through languor and lace curtains, tisking tongues at nude jetes, frowning at your naked arabesques. Appease them with a flowing scarf made of flesh-tone gossamer, streaming ribbons in your hair, or satin shoes that leap all by themselves. Don’t hide among the blossoms or take your dance inside. Just… wear something.
Naomi B. Patterson
********** Swamp Images
In ripples under the wind, Flutters a silent queen. Aquiver as she passes. One last, dead tear Upsets the thorn Where the drone Lies dying. Sinks In a tiny sea.
Nearby a branch is broken. Hangs dangling With the stream. A word is softly uttered. Soon the widow comes Approaching. Weaves her silent weave.
Above a fly is buzzing Over the glass beneath As a ripple’s forgotten movement Returns the image broken.
"Observe my lovely green?"
---- Naman Crowe
**********
|