Tuesday, December 08, 2009


thick snow lay fat on the tree branches
and in the ginger hair of Christopher Morris

as he rose his eyes widened
with fear and excitement

he charged in search of a lover
testing every display

and the young man that followed
he did not disapprove, nor take much notice

the search for a mate
consumed all his focus

but the women did not take kindly
to the boy they presumed to be his son


the woman chosen came in four parts

the wealthy wonder
surrounded in chestnut
and amber filled her tumbler
disfiguring the ancient Japanese patterns
on her loose fit kimono

the tender one
susceptible to the coming of others
in white linen the pink lemons
distract from her form
and the places she puts them
can be heard over the phone

the terrible one
whispering black secrets
in the ears of the others
through wire and cord
and terrible, dulcimer tones

the mirror one
accusing of others


1 comment:

matt at shadow of iris said...

I look forward to when you finish the poem ...