Saturday, April 28, 2012

Joyous Gard


The woodsmoke girl in yellow
Changes her mind
At least a hundred thousand times
Her name is Sylvia (head in the oven)
No, Margaret (cold corpsy lips)
No, just the letter H
With a’s and l’s and y’s
Stumbling after

Cold in a sweater 5 times her size
(I know it’s the wind)
The animal arms hang down to her
Smooth knees, like chocolate
My name is whispered in a heated moment
Then never heard again

She kisses my neck
Smiles at me from across the granite tabletop
Shares her warm thighs
Then turns into Joyous Gard
With the wind choking on her high walls

And while the nobles converse
In hushed tones in the great hall
And smirk at the whistles and
Rich falsetto yells of the wind (trying to get in)
Lancelot leans over to Guinevere
And effortlessly places his cold lips on her warm, malleable cheek.

3 comments:

  1. I'm dead. This is so beautiful. Easily one of your best.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Get your head out of the oven.

    ReplyDelete