Futures Under

Too much tossing has turned the mind
from fall to winter and kind to angry
reading the news has bruised the muscles
connecting the neck and twisting the ankles.

Across all measures of time, content,
best and good intentions, starts and fits,
she from shapeless sculpted what I meant
and she got me to agree with it.

Saturn arrives and leaves and still
remembers the vivacity of Venus
separated by small earth they will
lightly dance at a nimble distance.

A loved woman leaves a trail having
swallowed a story torn from the pages
of a book or a ballad or a blustery tale
told by old people to the young in jest.

I can sit on a fallen tree trunk
listing attributes and near conquests
fences jumped and wells dug
for her but not for my life which barely
compares to what she has suggested.

She can come across like a croissant
untouchable until broken into
she sits neatly and haunts with a taunt
completely aware of her effect on you.

We have not discussed futures
that lie underneath the slipppery rocks
that held us up in our crossing
of that foxy, dodgy, clumsy river.
Do we have to fall in first?

Across all measures of time, content,
best and good intentions, starts and fits,
she from shapeless sculpted what I meant
and she got me to agree with it.

Advertisements

About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s