Playing the Indian Card

Monday, March 07, 2016

A Letter Left on the Kitchen Table

Last night I danced with you
That slow, naked dance
And for a moment understood
Spinning out across the mirrored floor of galaxies
As the camera tracked around us and away
What it is, or what it need not be.

Things fit: the cogs and pulleys
Of the whole great catalytic calculating engine
Locked in trine, three cherries red ascendant.

And the Milky Way was something thrown between,
A paradigm of rainbows,
That we walked across, innocent as dewdrops
Ending God knows where, some garden world
Beneath some garden star
Where kryptonite never comes.

Midnight flowed; somewhere in floodlit forest
A thousand wild things died.

You will understand my disappointment this morning,
At seeing dawn still come.

-- Stephen K. Roney

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