Poem 24 : Fleeting
I am a unicorn. You are an elm tree.
Together we are symbols
I was a cymbal. You were a vein
that carried blood through a Persian cat’s body. I was Europe.
You were South America. I was young. So were you.
We sailed the Seven Seas in a ship made of our discontent and disappointments.
I was truculent. You were succulent.
I was a hand without fingers.
You were a fly without wings
I was King Kong. You were Fay Wray.
I was blind. You were deaf
I was Liberty. You were Death
I am old. You are old.
I am. You are. I was. You were.
Sic transit gloria mundi
Poem 25: Prowl, Howl, and Growl.
I run out of my home,
into the streets,
and I howl at the full moon.
Somebody calls the cops
who take me to a mental health facility
where I’m assessed by a psychiatrist
who just happens to be a lady lycanthrope.
So we go out
prowling, howling, and growling.
Poem 26: The Symbolic, the Imaginary, and The Real
Intrepid angels play winter banjos
as reluctant demons bellow in despair.
Skyscrapers crumble and fall.
Bees take nectar from honeysuckle roses.
A monkey eats a millipede
A stampede of cattle roars through the business district.
An old lady rocks in her rocking chair,
her mobility scooter is being repaired.
Pink flamingos think as they drink from a pond.
A little blonde girl has lost her red shoes.
K. stands on the shore, before the Law.
The Famous Five are trapped in a cave, on Smugglers’ cove.
The world ends with an implosion of images.