Friday, February 26, 2021

poem

 Glide

I would never buy a house

That didn’t creak and moan

In the high winter winds


Nothing is impregnable.

I don’t want to be walled  off

From the world like an inmate.

I have a basement for a crypt


I have a plot picked out in the earth.


I'll sleep under the stars

Even when a dry cave isn't far.

.

Every time I hear the howls

Outside and feel a shiver,

My walls ought to at least quiver.


I want to stowaway with you 

On a small boat rocked at sea

By an escalating series of waves.


I don't get seasick.


I want to sway like the trees

In the spring gales 

And flutter as leaves

Cupped like hammocks

Down to the ground.


We’ll blow away across the yard

Before the rakes are fetched.


Pour me rusted red

Into your slender glass

And swirl me slowly in the 

Center of your own vortex.


Enjoy me with your rare steak

But save a little bit to sip

With our hot chocolate cake.


We’ll come back to life

As blue marlin gliding

Along in the gulf stream


Wind up salmon swimming 

Upstream, fin to fin,

Back to where we began.


We’ll feel the flow

Surging in the opposite direction

From where we ought to go.


2/27/21


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