* * * * *
After supper,
concrete bleachers call on me to watch
Mother Horizon pulling her Sun-Child home;
cotton candy clouds dissolving on his sticky lips,
leaving the sky carnival to the Night Watchman.
Behind me, an eight-legged friend of our garden
shares the moment.
Somewhere past the unforgiving gaze of the Mother,
she who holds her arms wide in our separation,
you are opening your eyes to Sun-Child smiles
and the sound of ferris wheels.
I wait here until I hear your hollow steps echoing on the porch -
I don't turn, but I know the facet eyes of the spider see something
I cannot.
Retreating, he leaves us to our silence.
Looking out,
I see only shadows and starlight on the lawn
but you are seeing Dawn dancing through the acreage,
playing on my flaxen locks and kissing my lips peachy.
You only slightly detect my breathing as I sit there
on the porchsteps with my back turned, waiting.
Mother Horizon, ever aware, scolds me
for attempting to cross her boundaries
and join our beating hearts -
even in imagination.
(And the Sun-Child giggles near your desk as
the Night Watchman drags me to bed -
spider eyes the only witness.)
adf 2008
* * * * *
This is old, but I entered into a contest not too long ago so I thought I'd post.
