by the lily pond

A little gem – with perfect words and art.

jaywalking the moon

if i were Monet, i think, i’d paint ’em–
water lilies ruminantly cross-legged on their leaf-green seats
& in a white tent ‘cross the lawn,

faint laughter of wedding guests,
string quartet about to tuck away their instruments
in padded bags

i liked the cello player best,
dark curls nodding in the rhythm of the beat
as he, with slender fingers worked his way
uPuP&doWn her spine, touching her
in ways as only a lunatic lover would

i catch a light breeze from the pond,
squish it carefully between the wrinkles of my dress
fruit &chocolate traces (afterglow of a good red wine)
on the ceiling of my mouth’s soft cave,

some poems find you
in those quiet spots, sitting on the edge,
(unbalanced), dangling legs from smutty roof tops
&whole planets are (like salad wrapped)
enfolded in their lines,

a paper plane
spinSpINs &
tumBles through the tree…

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