The Maiden’s Song
she watches the sky
not for the stars – for the chocolate syrup they swim in,
in a graveyard
the rough stonework comforts her as she lays her cheeks
seeking their chill.
clothed in the black cloth of love’s embrace
over a pastel dress
she sings as
she accepts the kiss of a meat tenderizer,
cattails hold tightly her hands
lest they lose her Human Touch
as it hums from under a Scotsman’s kilt
and works the warm earth for its bounty,
the slap of a beaver tail,
a bruise from a Bo,
blue cloud dragons,
tattoos of a pirate life,
viewing the world through an octopus’ eyes,
pieces of her rubik’s cube
kept jumbled on purpose,
a skipper of stones
her ripples turn my mountains
This poem came to me after a comment on my blog.
It is meant as a tribute to someone I admire and want to walk through graveyards with.
She enriches my being.
And though I no longer hear her song as clearly,
I know it’s still out there: Nullibicity