AN ODE TO SMALL COMFORTS ON A RAINY AFTERNOON
Bloom! Bloom! O! This evermore wintry tide
Whisper litanies, wondrous lullaby,
Caress skins in that comely way you ride
Marvels of seasoned rind of litany;
As you march avidly, a lone Magi
Desert of roofs blend, your trusty drummers
Quench their arid taste, dust tongues scream, twist, prancing
About. Cadence of words dry
Like fire throat, miles ran, visage of radar
Bridge and brace me to hearken, phone ringing!
Like the soft warmth that never try to hide
Of noon-lake, a swift cut of knife sharply
Through yam, perfect sequence of each slide,
Slices of ease drop, manna fall creamy
Upon eyelids-vertigo turn up sly.
I’m butterfly, cocooned in your fingers,
Spell the craze of disturbed markets racing.
Noxious nostrils, cold nigh
To spill chilly globules, tobacco tars
Ebb cursive; somnolent steps receding.
Now I am soft like tender foliage wide
To stark sun rays, woman splayed, slippery.
Rapture, I incline to your meshed inside
Grant that laughter of a nude history
Where specters feast, their bliss and empty sigh;
Anodyne rings of mirth with diameter
Copious, contempt of your feet pattering;
So my answer is wry.
Louse, I latch to the phone, sweet chat linger
Till rain cast her nest; am I lost dreaming?
First Place in Cyndi Macmillan's Contest.