Walking On Jigsaw Waves
crowded, my feelings -
rolling hitch.
i lay on the broiler pan
scorched, unturned.
even if
i could climb to the top
of a mountain,
spy out the lay of the land,
i’d only see spears of rain
landing on the sea, on the dock;
glaring up at me
“You’re next!”
my progeny making mincemeat.
the waves lapping, higher and higher
in the boat,
imagined tapping -
high heels heavily polished,
skirts over my head.
i’m drowning.
dreaded
the text, the letter, video chat
which way to turn.
the multidirectional scarecrow’s
no help; never was.
the heart
throbs, the pain
of love.
no one knows
except a woman
walking on jigsaw waves,
falling
through the gaps,
gasping for air
with no one to catch,
as i sink in despair,
yet...
my spouse snatches me up
by the back of my shirt,
shakes off the wet dog look,
sets me on dry land,
wraps
a towel around my wounds,
looks into my eyes
with laser precision,
with the brain
of a tinman.
i pound on his coat of arms;
he says
“Look! There’s no witch around.”
we get on our knees.
we raise our hands above the fray.
we hear the song of heaven’s angels,
a ladder lowered for us to climb,
higher and higher.
the chimes, of a grandfather clock,
answer the piquant question
in ways not imagined
on earth.
calmness of a clear blue sky
floating on unencumbered clouds —
agape all around.
7/10/2020
*Rolling hitch - a type of sailor knot
**agape - the highest of loves
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2020
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