Last Carriage
Two women fighting over last cart
Unsophisticated, brawling, stubborn,
Short. Up rolls a knight, armor shining bright,
“Why d’ost thou fight til the death o’er singular
shining carriage? Mine has wings...fly ‘way,
take thee for thy miscarriage.
i shall tarry for one of my own.”
Their heads, ready to roll, explode, quibbling,
quizzical like two German Shepherds —
ears antennae’d for radar, heads cocked
ready to shoot, surprised, surrendering
to the prize — shoulders like majestic highs
walk into the sunset reprise.
The sun sparkles like diamonds
On the suited knight, night’s been saved
from a ridiculous fight.
What other maelstrom resides in the honey jar?
3/13/2020
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2020
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