November 13
FLORAL ECSTASY
I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of
water lilies. Wear foxgloves and a pair
of lady slippers, too. I could wrap
myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles. I could rise with the roses, lay with the
lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home
with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks
say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.
Increase your tool
chest by one.
*
When I’m Gone
When I’m gone ……
I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best
But more likely will be the lament;
she didn’t live up to her potential.
When I’m gone ……
I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted
voices
But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.
When I’m gone ……
I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms
But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable
notes,
then the circular file.
When I’m gone ……
I would like my dreams to fly
to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge
But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long
corridor
and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.
